Brothers in arms
by niewypowiedziane
Summary: A war breaks out. Avengers fight along with everyone else - but it's not enough. Tony decides to make a radical move to gain advantage over the enemy and soon after he learns it worked he's separated from the team and abducted by someone he'd have never suspected. The consequences will hurt. Also: friendship vs betrayal, an unwelcome time traveller, and one big lie.
1. 1

**A/N:** This is going to be a dark story, containing graphic violence, character death, trauma, mental health issues, so please have that in mind. Also, beware a short mention of 9/11 at the beginning.

* * *

**1**

The war breaks out unexpectedly.

Okay, so that is a lie: everything is predictable to a certain degree. There've been signs, protests here and there, suspicious people travelling from country to country, a few incidents, some words written on the internet but never printed in newspapers. There have been talks about energy and economics, about population growth and religion – but not much more fierce than before.

S.H.I.E.L.D. has known about all of that, monitoring potential threats, putting out fires wherever possible. Tony has known because everything that happens in the world affects Stark International – as the name says, _international_ – and himself personally.

But no one could have predicted a war.

It begins a bit like WWI, with a simple episode that seems to strike certain groups of people. It's a bit like 9/11, too, because there is a plane involved.

It's a plane full of child prodigies from Asia that were supposed to take part in an educational project in the USA. A bomb goes off onboard, a few kilometers from the airport. 113 kids and 26 adults. It's on the news a minute after the_ accident,_ as it's called at the beginning, happens.

Tony knows – knew – two of those kids personally, they were children of a man who works for Stark Industries in India. Mathematical geniuses. 12 and 14. Nirav and Shanti.

The governments are mad and the families even more, of course, understandably, but most of the discussion takes place in the interactive media which means the internet. Less than 24 hours after the plane is blown up, some people who claim to be an international group of freedom-seekers claim that they planted the bomb.

They announce that another bombing is going to happen within 12 hours. No one really believes them because there are no details, but just in case most countries are on a lookout, police in the streets, army in the streets. The bomb goes off in London and kills dozens of people.

It could be a coincidence, the media say because that's what they are instructed to say to stop the panic, but every single journalist and – almost everyone, honestly – is sitting and staring at the group's website to know what is going to happen next.

American government tries to block the website, to make it disappear, but they don't manage , and neither do other countries. It keeps being up within milliseconds after being deleted.

S.H.I.E.L.D. calls Tony and Tony asks JARVIS to do his best, but even the A.I. can't trace the source of the signal that comes back to life so quickly, quicker than it should be possible.

'We are an international group of people capable of taking care of the world,' they say. 'We are scientists and programmers, technicians and intellectuals, and nothing can stop us from taking over the world. That's why we targeted the genius kids: as a sign of protest. We know how the everything the scientific community is doing will help destroy the world and we need to put a top to it.'

It doesn't make much sense but the international uproar is incredible.

There is a bomb in Rio de Janeiro and then in Cape Town, in Melbourne and in Tokyo, in Rome and in Los Angeles. But for some time it's just bombs.

All of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents are working double or triple shifts, sleeping for short hours and living off coffee, collaborating with all other federal agencies and some international ones, too, but there are no loose ends. No traces. No _nothing_.

'None of us are Americans,' the group states another day. 'America thinks it can usurp the first place in everything in the world but they are years behind other countries, the countries they deem poor, undeveloped, stupid, unworthy. Look how behind they are!'

An hour later all of the electronic devices in Los Angeles stop working, including at Stark International factories. Only the arc reactor isn't affected because it's self-sustaining and independent.

'It's obvious what they are trying to do,' Phil says, running a hand through his short hair. His tie is loosened, sleeves rolled up, dark bags under his eyes. They are all in the Avengers Tower with Director Fury on a giant screen via video, agents shouting and moving fervently like bees in a hive. 'It doesn't matter if it's the US or not on their team. They want a war between us and everyone who'll stand behind us – and the rest of the world. It seems. In addition to their science-bashing declarations.'

'Cyber war,' Tony adds, sipping his cold whiskey slowly, staring at a screen where JARVIS is simultaneously running a search for the source of the data input for the website and analysis of the situation in LA, considering it's SI's second biggest center of production. 'Internet war, war of minds, of technology, of ideas, of codes and keys and numbers.'

'You're good at that,' Steve comments, locking his eyes on the same screen Tony is staring at, but even after two years in the 21st century it's all beyond him. To his credit, it would probably be beyond most people.

'I'm not a programmer per se,' Tony counters, moving the glass up to his lips. The ice cubes rattle quietly. 'I'm not a specialist in any of these things. JARVIS is a working miracle but those guys are doing something completely different. And it's obvious that it's a provocation. I just don't know what is the source, what is the reason, what is the point? They don't seem to want anything other than kicking America off the metaphorical pedestal and making sure the world know we suck, but the world is aware of that already. No need to point it out.'

'I need to go get to the Helicarrier,' Phil tells them suddenly, getting up and putting on his jacket. As far as Tony can tell he's exchanged a few words with Natasha and Clint, but they don't seem to be going anywhere. 'Thank god it's arc reactor-powered,' he adds and Tony smirks. He'd prefer it said under different circumstances and with much bigger audience but it's not a bad compromise.

'Fly safe,' Tony tells the man and goes back to staring at the screen. There is a familiar ting of the elevator when the doors open. 'What did Agent tell you?'

'To stay out of any potential trouble,' Clint replies, snatching a sandwich from a plate one of Tony's bots has just brought. 'Eat,' he adds when the bot rolls towards Tony and nags him with his free arm. 'Eat, you idiot, or I'll have Bruce install an IV to your arm.'

'Okay, okay,' Tony grumbles and takes the sandwich absentmindedly and begins to chew it without gusto. His stomach feels tight and eating isn't probably the best idea, but he knows he has to stop worrying so much – how absurd that sounds now! – and take a moment to rest.

'I'll be in the gym,' Natasha informs them both and disappears. Tony knows Steve is there, and Thor, too, so the sparring will be epic; he wishes he could spare a moment to go and just observe, cheering for whoever might be winning, but – not this time.

'You're not going, Legolas?' Tony asks Clint between bites, tapping at the screen with his free hand to hide some bars and enlarge a few others. The supervisor of the SI factories in Los Angeles is supposed to call in about ten minutes to tell Tony is person how the situation there looks like. The power in the city is slowly being restored, all available people working on it, including SI's personnel, but it's possible that a similar situation will happen – well, anywhere, anytime.

'I'll make sure you don't work yourself to death,' Clint replies, jumping onto the sofa. 'Besides, I have something to do for Phil,' he waves a bunch of papers at Tony. 'When I finish these, and it should take about half an hour, I'm dragging you up and putting you to bed. Pepper's orders, sorry pal, but I'm not going to risk her wrath in addition to a global catastrophe.'

'Okay, whatever,' Tony murmurs and frowns at the most recent set of data that JARVIS is displaying. 43% of machines at SI are functional and working already, the rest is being looked at by Tony's teams. No news about the website. All attempts to find some legitimate information are futile, the search bounces back or gets stopped before it can really begin.

How the hell is all of this happening, Tony wonders, rubbing his eyes. Maybe Pepper and Clint are right, he should probably get some rest because everything seems to start swimming and getting blurry in front of his eyes.

Derek Brume, the SI Los Angeles branch director calls on time and gives Tony a lengthy and detailed report. It seems that nothing was permanently damaged; all the electronic devices seem okay, they just… shut off for some time. For almost two hours. And then started working again. No one has any information as to how did they manage to do that. JARVIS is trying to find out the source – a signal-scrambling device? something via internet? something via electrical installation? none of that makes sense – and Feds are trying to do the same.

No fucking answers.

Tony ends the call telling the man and everyone to try to get some sleep and rest before tomorrow, because it's likely to bring news and some answers to questions, if they are lucky.

'Hey,' Tony hears a soft voice behind himself and almost jumps in his chair.

'Hello, my sweetest science buddy, what can I do for you? Coffee? Drink? Anything –'

Bruce rolls his eyes and leans over the table next to Tony, turning off the screen before Tony can react and then putting a hand on his shoulder.

'I've got you these,' he says, producing a tiny transparent container with two pills inside. 'Magic meds.'

'Gimmie,' Tony smiles, but Bruce keeps them out of Tony's reach.

'Has he eaten?' Bruce asks Clint who nods and holds up a hand with two fingers up; it's a common signal in the house and the currency is always sandwiches. Unless it's breakfast time, then it might be waffles. 'Okay. Here you are. Go to sleep.'

'Thanks, Brucie,' Tony says sincerely, glancing up at his fellow scientist with his tired eyes. No matter how exhausted he might be, he would _not _fall asleep without some external aid, there is simply too much going on in his head to be shut off efficiently with a pure force of will.

'Just this once,' Bruce reminds him sternly and Tony replies with a lopsided smile and a salute before disappearing in the elevator that goes up to his personal apartment.

The pills do wonders and Tony succumbs to sleep within a few minutes; it really must be a new record.

* * *

So, all of that was just a prelude.

When the war really breaks out, with an official declaration, it's a few days later and after several other incidents that shake the international community. There are no more bombings, instead, there are shootings targeted at important officials from all over the world. 12 people die, 17 are seriously wounded. A few countries are left without key figures. Everyone is looking _everywhere_ around, trying to physically find the people who did it: a set of names signed under the declarations on the internet is not enough.

S.H.I.E.L.D. is almost in disarray, as close to disarray as Tony will probably ever see, he thinks, and Coulson looks as if he was on the verge of just stopping in the middle of action and bursting in tears. Not surprising. Anyone else would have done that a long time ago.

Fury is nowhere to be seen.

'He left for a meeting with the President and a few other important people,' Hill tells Tony when he asks. She doesn't tell him when, where to, for how long. It's very likely that she doesn't know herself.

Without any Avengers' work, Tony spends the few days after that memorable night he slept through on securing Stark International factories and writing code upgrades for JARVIS to make him as safe as possible, although he has no idea what he is supposed to prepare for.

'I can't have you compromised, J,' Tony tells him between sips of coffee. 'I _need_ you.'

'If you cut me off from the internet and all other web connections I will be not of much use, sir,' JARVIS reminds him softly. 'You didn't create me to control the lights in the tower and play movies from DVDs.'

'I know, J,' Tony sighs, rubbing his eyes. Gosh, a few more days of staring at the screens without a break and he's going to need glasses. 'But you are my friend, you know that, my best friend – and I want to do everything to protect you.'

'It might be not worth it,' the A.I. replies flatly. Tony shakes his head in resignation. He knows perfectly well that it might not.

* * *

Given all the hectic work Tony's been doing, when the actual information about the declarations of war is all over the news he isn't sure he cares. After seventy eight consecutive hours without sleep even Tony reaches his physical limits.

Bruce is sitting with him in the dining area, making sure Tony eats before Bruce can feed him sleeping pills – Tony knows he's starting to be ridiculous with his stubbornness about working and not resting – when JARVIS flickers the TV on.

'Sir, you must look at this,' he says and Tony and Bruce turns their heads around to look at the screen. WE ARE AT WAR, scream big red letters on the bottom of the screen; the President is reading his statement, trying to raise his voice over the loud murmur of disbelieving voices.

'What the fuck?...' Tony asks himself, blinking at the screen. 'J, give me an overview, I can't listen to this _we have to stay calm _shit, how the hell are we supposed to be calm – okay, Bruce, _you_ stay calm –'

'Don't worry,' Bruce replies through gritted teeth. 'I'm okay.'

'Good – JARVIS? And where is everyone?'

'Agents Romanov and Barton are at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters with Agent Coulson, Mister Thor and Mister Rogers are down in the gym, I alerted them about the situation and they will be up here shortly. Miss Potts and Mister Hogan are in Stark International tower. Colonel Rhodes, as you may see, is with the President,' JARVIS enumerates everyone on the alert list and highlight Rhodey's uniformed person somewhere in the background of the scene in TV. 'The information that is not public yet but all Federal Agencies have access to tells us that the group of people we've been having problems with recently is in fact a group led by a man who calls himself _The Emperor_ and as far as we know is a time traveler. There are several thousand soldiers residing in Greenland – it's not clear how they managed to get to the island without being noticed, but it has happened within the last twenty four hours – and a number we cannot estimate scattered all around the world. They appear to have weapons that are technologically ahead of our times, sir.'

'So _they_ declared the war first –'

'Yes, but given that their operatives seem to everywhere, it's difficult to take any action. Many governments blame America for this events because of the previous declarations you are aware of, even though the aggressors are not American.'

'What a fucking mess,' Tony murmurs, feeling a headache raising between his temples. And he as hoping to finally get some rest. 'How _the hell _did all of that happen?'

'I would say it's likely because of the advantages that their leader's knowledge brings –'

'I know, J, it was rhetorical…' Tony sighs, taking the mug from the table to drink the remains of his tea, but Bruce stops him and places the pills in Tony's hand.

'You need this,' he says. 'I know it's like the worst moment but – don't make this face, you're going to drop unconscious with exhaustion if you continue like this and you'll be much less useful then because I _will_ tie you down to a bed and keep you there until I deem you are okay enough to come back to the land of living.'

'Okay,' Tony agrees without a protest because he knows Bruce is right. 'J, make sure you'll have everything summarized for me when I wake up. Tell Pepper we'll talk about SI when I wake up. In fact, ask her to come home as soon as possible.'

'Of course, sir.'

'Steve and Thor?…'

'I'll explain them everything. Now shoo, we might need you so the sooner you're something more than a zombie the better.'

Tony nods and jumps off the bar stool, heading towards his room.

He hopes there will be some answers when he wakes up because right now it's just an incredible mess he _can't believe_ this is really happening. Time travelling madman? And they thought Chitauri were too much.

* * *

The first thing Tony asks about when he wakes up is where is everyone.

'They are safe, all Avengers but Mister Thor are in the penthouse. Mister Thor is in New Mexico with Doctor Foster. Miss Potts and Mister Hogan are on their respective floors in the tower. Colonel Rhodes still with the President. Nothing violent has happened within the time you were asleep, sir. There were several more declarations of war and more politics but not attacks so far.'

'Thank heavens,' Tony breathes and rolls out of the bed. A quick shower later he puts on whichever clothes he finds first and quickly goes down to meet with the rest of the crowd.

'S.H.I.E.L.D. is disbanded,' Phil tells Tony as soon as he enters the room and the words make him freeze in place.

'_What_?'

'Or maybe I should say suspended for the time of war,' Phil continues, not moving an inch on the sofa. Tony can see that the man is almost dead on his feet and it hurts to see that; Clint looks worried out of his mind. 'But yeah, we were sent home for now. I have no idea why, this has never happened – but then S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded after Second World War, so it's the first… Anyway. We got an order. All agents are to report to a newly-found War Division within 48 hours.'

'And Fury?'

'Haven't seen him. He called me, though, and ordered to do as we're said. So we did.'

'God, Phil,' Clint sighs, burying his face in the man's neck. 'You need to rest. Now. 48 hours, I'm not letting you do anything but sleep.'

'Pretty extreme,' Phil murmurs, but doesn't protest. It's strange to see him like this, the opposite of his usual composed self in crisp suits and with a straight back, but it's not that surprising given that it was his and Hill's responsibility to take care of all S.H.I.E.L.D. business when Fury was not there.

One last time, apparently.

'You look better, Tony,' Steve comments with a small smile because he is Steve and he's himself 24/7 and will always tell you something nice. 'I'm glad you had some rest finally.'

'Yeah, me too,' Tony agrees and starts to make his way toward the kitchen. 'Anyone else wants food?'

They shake their heads for no – it's 8 a.m., so they've just eaten breakfast – and Tony gets there himself and immediately asks JARVIS to pull up the news summary for him.

The USA, a few dozen South American and African countries, as well as Australia and New Zealand, declared official war on the Autonomous Country of Greenland. European countries obviously can't do it as easily, Greenland is still part of the Kingdom of Denmark and therefore part of EU and it makes things helluva complicated, but Danish government underlined several times that they have nothing to do with _The Emperor_. Some Asian countries are apparently considering going at war with the US since they are the reason of the whole situation, at least in collective minds, and the wound left after the plane bombing is still fresh.

American President declared no intention of an armed intervention in Greenland because it seems pointless – their people are _everywhere_ already – and it could mean a very difficult conflict with the EU, since Greenlanders are European citizens.

'Has the _Emperor_ actually shared what does he want to achieve?' Tony asks, munching on his sandwich mechanically.

'No, sir, bur he declared he will share _when the time comes._'

'Motherfucker,' Tony murmurs, blinking a few times to make sure he has seen the number right. 'JARVIS, did I really get seven hundred ninety three messages within eight hours?'

'Yes, sir. They are mostly inquires about the possibility of Stark International going back to producing weapons in the light of recent events.'

Tony puts away the sandwich, sighs deeply and rests his head on his hand. All of sudden breakfast doesn't seem like a good idea – it doesn't seem _possible_. He locks his fingers around the mug so tightly his knuckles turn white and it feels like any more pressure put into the grip and the mug might break into pieces.

No.

No, right?

'Colonel Rhodes asked me to tell you that the President wants to meet you, sir. Within two days, whenever is convenient for you.'

'Rhodey called? When?'

'A few hours after you fell asleep. I believe he was in a different time zone, but the President and all of his people are supposed to be back in the White House in a few hours, as soon as the terrain is inspected and it's certain that there is no threat present to the lives of the residents.'

'Sure,' Tony breathes, tapping at the screen to see the newest information about SI Los Angeles; the map of the world disappears and an email from Brume pops up. 'Make me coffee, J. Something I'll drink. Big one.'

'Right away,' the A.I. replies, for once not scolding Tony for skipping breakfast, and the coffee machine starts to hum softly.

No lasting damage in LA, it seems, but that's no consolation if the Emperor's men can turn off all the electronic devices anytime they want _again_. JARVIS' analysis, conducted all night long, did not bring any answers. Source unknown, untraceable. Modus operandi unknown. Unknown._Unknown_. JARVIS says sorry but it's not his fault. He is only as much as Tony can make him so if it's anyone's fault, it's Tony's.

'Tony?' a soft voice calls him from behind and he flinches violently, swearing silently not to get completely lost in his thoughts so often.

The room smells like coffee. Before Tony can get up to take his mug, it's placed in front of him and Natasha drops to the seat on his right.

'Yes?'

'Did you know it was going to happen?' she asks, almost in a whisper, and Tony realizes how exhausted she must be. They're all crazy workaholics, but when Clint and Coulson are occupied with each other or not present at all, Natasha is always left out a bit and she doesn't have enough self-preservation to take proper care of herself. And recently everyone has been pushing themselves too far.

'I had no fucking idea,' Tony admits. She knows he's not lying. Of course he isn't.

'I wasn't expecting them to disband S.H.I.E.L.D.,' she continues, and Tony suddenly understands what is the problem. 'It was my life since Clint brought me here, and now I don't know – I can't be sure everyone else will want me. Given my past.'

'Avengers will want you,' Tony assures her without missing a beat. 'J, make Natasha tea,' he orders the A.I. and the electric kettle is on immediately. Tony knows he has every right to say that because as much as Steve is the commander in field, Tony is the leader.

'Avengers were S.H.I.E.L.D.'s –'

'So now we are not anymore,' Tony interrupts firmly. 'But we still _are_ a team and I can't imagine anyone stopping us from being a team. And there'll always be place for you here.'

'Thank you,' Natasha says. She seems a bit relieved.

Tony gets up and takes her favorite glass out of the cupboard – a gift from Pepper's trip to Russia, a delicate tumbler put into a decorated metal cup holder. He makes tea in a teapot, the way Natasha taught him long time ago, and they wait for five minutes in complete silence, with news feed turned on but muted. When the time is up, Tony pours the tea into the glass and places a cube of sugar inside.

'Come on, Nat,' he chooses to use the nickname that he wouldn't dare to use in most situations, but he desperately wants to give her some comfort. Who knew he would be friends with an assassin? 'Let's get you to bed and before you protest consider that I'm playing Bruce's role here and think how strange this is for me. But you need rest. You see. We just need to mother each other into sleeping,' he finishes lightly and stares at her suggestively.

The last comment makes the corners of her mouth twitch a tiny bit and that makes it a victory.

Natasha, as everyone else on the team, has no internal clock, so falling asleep shouldn't be more difficult during the day that it is during the night. Tony deposits her in her room and goes back to the kitchen to find Steve and Bruce discussing something, but as soon as they realize Tony is approaching they fall silent.

'I don't mind if you talk about me,' he declares, passing them to get to the coffee maker. One cup is definitely not enough to deal with the insanity the day is surely going to bring. 'Or my weapons,' he adds because hey, it's pretty obvious. 'I was going to ask you anyway.'

'Ask us?' Steve repeats, leaning back in the chair and making the face that Tony can never figure out; it might mean innocence or curiosity or confusion all the same. It's a guess.

'I got about few hundred emails from important people asking me to go back to making weapons during the war for the benefit of my country and all that. I don't want to so I wanna ask what you think about that.'

'If you don't want to –'

'Tony knows he's not being objective,' Bruce interrupts Steve, pushing his glasses up and pinching his nose bridge the way he does when he's stressed. 'You should talk to Pepper,' he adds, turning to Tony.

'I will, but… you know,' Tony pauses for a moment to take a sip of the almost burning coffee, 'I don't want to ask the board about this because I know their answer already. Or anyone from the government because it's obvious, too. And it seems like – _fuck. _I'm a terrible person,' he suddenly realizes something, puts the coffee away and hides his face in his hands.

'Tony?' Steve calls his name with that soft worried note Tony adores hearing.

'You know, maybe don't answer,' Tony says, taking a deep breath. 'I don't really – I don't want you opinions. I just want it to be the responsibility of more people than me and Pepper because I have no idea what is the right answer. And it's a fucking lot of responsibility. So. Just ignore me –'

'I want to have say in this,' Steve declares. Of course he does. 'You can put the responsibility on Captain America's shoulder or something, but I don't think you should go back to weapons. We don't even know what kind of war this is going to be. Nothing like we've seen before, it seems,' he stops for a moment, glancing at Bruce as if he was making an assessment, and then looks back at Tony and speaks up before Tony can articulate something, 'War is _mad_, Tony. People are not themselves anymore, so often, and they do things they would've never done otherwise and we don't know what to expect… And we all know why you stopped making weapons. I… I don't want to see you hurt by what would the weapons inevitably be used for. We _know_ it wouldn't be just for the good cause, we know it would be misused so… So, please, don't do this. Don't do this to yourself.'

Tony puts the mug to his lips and lets the hot liquid almost burn his skin, wondering how to reply. It's… uplifting, to know that someone care for _him_.

'Steve is right,' Bruce adds.

Tony can feel a strange warmth in his gut at his friends' words because they really believe that his peace of mind is the most important factor here.

'You're biased, too, obviously,' he comments in the end, chuckling darkly, but they don't seem amused. 'But thanks for the opinions. I – I need to talk to Pepper. Seriously –'

'You have an incoming call from Colonel Rhodes, sir,' JARVIS cuts in and Steve and Bruce disappear from the room within three seconds, giving Tony privacy, leaving him alone with his steaming coffee.

'Hey, platypus,' Tony greets the man even though there's none of the usual playfulness in his voice.

'Hey, Tony,' Rhodey replies as if he was in hurry; it's actually very likely. 'I just wanted to tell you I'll be sending you an email in a few moments, about the meeting with the President, and please reply straight away, okay? We need a schedule, there is lots going on, so none of your games this time –'

'I wouldn't,' Tony assures him and he means it.

'Good. And – good to hear your voice, man.'

'Same here,' Tony smiles. He hasn't seen Rhodey in _weeks_ and it's happened before but this time the weeks seem to stretch endlessly.

'I need to run, Tony. It's crazy here, you can imagine – anyway. Write back.'

'I will,' Tony manages to say before Rhodey hangs up. Two sips of coffee later there is an email alert on the screen and Tony opens the message immediately.

The President wants to talk about the War Division – might be somehow enlightening, weapons – obvious, the Avengers – obvious, Tony's willingness to borrow some of his tech – well, _duh_; he wants to offer Tony some classified information in exchange for tech support – not surprising either. Safety protocol: no Iron Man suit. Uh-oh. _Danger is case it's hacked_, someone apparently decided. It's ridiculous, Tony's jet could as well crash into Pentagon, not like it hasn't happened before.

_I'll be there at 0800 tomorrow,_ Tony just writes. _All the precautions acknowledged._

No way he is going anywhere without a suit, but the suitcase one will do, the design upgraded several times after the confrontation with Vanko.

Now: SI stuff. A meeting with Pepper. A board meeting. A team meeting, later, when Phil and Natasha and Clint are back to the land of the living. Maybe some other meeting. Ugh. It's all one big instant headache.

And, of course, there is an always-present anticipation and uncertainty regarding what's going to happen that makes Tony's skin tingle constantly. All the countries seem to be waiting for the Emperor's move, awaiting a message or an _act_ of some kind; the clock ticks and there is no information and Tony is sure the madman must have _a lot of fun_ keeping everyone on their toes.

* * *

Tuesday meetings go quickly and the only real decision that is made is that Stark International will _not_ be going back to making weapons. no matter what might happen. Tony talks about it with Pepper and she agrees with him. The board is very unhappy about the decision because as much as they might be scared by the prospect of war – an uncontrollable war, it seems, and an unpredicted one – they see the opportunity of making a lot of money. _Really_. An endless stream of money because SI makes the best everything, so everyone would buy their guns and missiles and everything that blows up and kills people.

'We will come up with some projects from the area of defense,' Tony tells the board to placate them. 'I have several things I will show to R&D later this week.'

They grumble unhappily, but everyone has learned by now that Tony's word is holy and he does what he wants. Always. Especially when it comes to weapons.

The team meeting ends up being just a simply dinner in front of the TV. They don't even try watching a movie because all thoughts are on something fundamentally different and _very_ real; the news feed is on with JARVIS' additions, muted, and they eat in silence. The three agents – former agents? – are looking much better now, but Tony knows Bruce and Steve will make sure they sleep through the night, too, instead of wearing themselves out by training or staying up talking. There's a common agreement about postponing any big decisions concerning the team to after Tony comes back from the meeting with the President.

* * *

JARVIS wakes Tony up at 5 sharp and he goes on autopilot for half an hour, shower – tooth brushing – shaving – making his hair – underwear, exactly in that order, and then he puts on an elegant dark suit with a crisp white shirt, diamond cufflinks, all the President-worthy jazz, but he lets himself wear a deep red tie because hello, he _is_ Iron Man. Pepper shouldn't complain too much.

She is waiting for him in the kitchen in a smart dress and sky-high heels, dressed for work, with the coffee ready and scent of waffles filling the room.

'You'll lure Steve out with this pretty smell,' he comments, brushing her forehead with his lips as he's passing her to take out cinnamon sugar from the cupboard.

'He's in the gym with Thor,' Pepper replies around her glass of juice. The god and the super-soldier are lucky; they can function just fine on half on regular mortal's required amount of sleep.

'Figures,' Tony mumbles, taking a sip of his coffee and thanking gods for the incredible and indispensable brew like he does every morning. 'I'll eat, I know,' he adds before Pepper can say something; Tony sees the intent clearly in her body language. She smiles a bit.

'You never liked the White House food.'

'True,' Tony agrees and puts an additional waffle on his plate before sprinkling them all with sugar. Normally he'd add some whipped crème, but at half past five he's not sure his stomach would be too happy with that. 'JARVIS? Anything I need to know before I go?'

'I can give you a summary of the night's events on the jet, sir,' the A.I. offers in his usual emotionless voice; it's so soothing to Tony's ears. 'But nothing of significance has happened, at least not in comparison with the kind of events we're dealing with these days.'

'No message from the motherfu–'

'Tony!' Pepper exclaims, making a face. Tony can't make himself feel guilty.

'You know he deserves any name I can come up with,' Tony whines and takes a bite of the waffle, gesturing at JARVIS to reply.

'There are no declarations on the website, sir, although there are some pieces of information that might seem interesting. You should be onboard the jet in half an hour, sir, and I will let you know everything then.'

'Yes, mother,' Tony agrees, rolling his eyes, because JARVIS' unspoken _now please eat, sir_, in filling in the kitchen air. So he does eat, then he packs his tablet and a few other gadgets he might need, including the suitcase suit. After saying goodbye to Pepper he takes the elevator down to the ground level. Happy is waiting with the Bentley in front of the Tower's main entrance.

The ride to the private airport on the Stark International grounds is short and swift; even in New York the traffic at 6 a.m. is quite calm.

The most important thing that JARVIS tells Tony on the plane are: one, that there have been several incidents similar to the Los Angeles one, seemingly without a key, all over the world – and two, that there seem to be groups forming on the internet for people who do agree with the Emperor and the numbers are higher than Tony would have ever expected. The social networking sites can't keep up with deleting the pro-war comments and the discussions filled with so much hatred and idiocies that Tony wants to scream.

Oh, and conspiracy theories.

'So that's what you get when you mix a fucking real global conflict with the internet,' Tony comments to himself, swallowing two Tylenol; the headache is a bitch. Even though he's slept almost six hours.

The jet lands in D.C. at 0700 sharp, giving Tony time to get to the White House and go through the security. Normally it wouldn't take long, but in this situation – even with Rhodey playing for the President's team – there must be precautions. And he's got to persuade the security team that no, his suit _cannot_ be hacked because it's been offline all the time and it has a special system, separate from the internet; it's almost true.

There is a limousine waiting at the airport that Tony gets into without hesitation, spotting Rhodey's face inside and as soon as one of the soldiers closes the doors behind him, he notices the second person sitting in the back.

It's Fury.

Tony glares.

'Don't tell me you didn't expect me here,' the ex-Director says, his voice low and deep as always, sounding somehow creepy in the dark interior of the car.

'I kind if did,' Tony admits, placing the suitcase armor between on the floor between his legs. 'Not in the car though.'

'Surprise,' Fury deadpans and Tony snickers, turning his head to Rhodey.

'What's up, honeybear? Why are you staring at me like this?'

'Thanks for being in time for once.'

'Even I know the limits,' Tony declares, gaining disbelieving stares from both men. 'Okay, apparently sometimes I do. Like now.'

'There is always the first time,' Rhodey murmurs and leans back in the seat as the car accelerates.

'I was –' Tony starts and then stops. There must have been one time – oh. 'I was on time for our MIT graduation, right? I know I was.'

'You know because I told you; you were too drunk to say more than five simple sentences as your gradation speech,' Rhodey reminds him flatly, but there's a tiny hint of affection underneath his composed demeanor. True. Tony nods in agreement and relaxes in his seat, too, and the rest of the ride passes in silence.

They arrive at the White House half past seven and when the security team is done x-raying them and checking all the secret pockets and trying to snatch Tony's suit out of his grasp – he wins the fight – they are finally lead through the vast halls to the Situation Room filled with a buzz of everyone inside talking all at once; it might be Tony's persistent headache making him exaggerate though.

When they enter the room it seems to go silent and within seconds almost everyone disappears, leaving only eight people inside, including Tony, Rhodey and Fury.

'Mister Stark,' the President says, coming up to shake Tony's hand. 'Pleasure to meet you again, although I wish the circumstances were drastically different.'

'Same here, Mister President,' Tony replies with his usual cocky charm and the man offers him a tight grin.

'I hope you don't mind if we go straight to the heart of the matter, Mister Stark, as the time presses,' Tony nods in agreement and sits in the chair one of the men indicates. 'So, Director Fury can tell you more about S.H.I.E.L.D. if you have questions, but as for the Avengers, I'd like you as a part of the War Division. Richard, show Mister Stark the files,' he says to the man who showed Tony his seat. Tony has never seen the man before, what is kind of curious. _Have JARVIS look at him_, he makes a mental note.

'I see you managed to sneak your suit here in the end,' the President says when Tony is skimming the file. Tony just returns the fake smile and looks back at the papers.

It seems that World Security Council finally lost its patience with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s insubordination and Avenger's waywardness and decided to turn it all into something not unlike an army's special intelligence division. When Tony looks up, Fury shakes his head slightly for a no, which obviously means he had no say in that. Nor surprising, he's been disobeying his superiors long enough to finally be ignored.

'If you take part in the project without making problems, I am sure it would be a great example for everyone else,' the President says at some point.

'I'll discuss it with the team before I can make a decision – pardon me, mister President,' Tony adds quickly seeing that the man wants to cut in, 'but even the state of war does _not_ give me the right to decide for other people, especially such unique individuals that you surely are aware that we are.'

'Why don't you –'

'I need to talk with them _in person_,' Tony says, smiling apologetically. One good thing about practically owning the US and being a superhero at the same time – is being able to tell your mind to everyone, politely but with a shit-eating grin because they have to listen to you.

The President is _not_ happy at all about Stark International refusing to make weapons and Tony barely manages to resist the urge to roll his eyes after the tenth time he has to repeat the same words and assure the men in the room that no, no amount of state money and no exclusive contracts can persuade him.

Tony can't stop wondering what has happened to the world that made him the only man that _won't_ be persuaded to do anything against his will. Rhodey has never been that man but he's a soldier so Tony has never blamed him. Fury is more of a surprise but Tony suspects he's made a few moves on his own in this game that the others might not be aware of. Yet.

'I can sell you defensive tech,' Tony tells the President the same thing he told the board. Defense is okay. Defense is necessary and it's something Tony is willing to put all his brains and resources into.

The President and his men make sour faces, but Tony keep smiling. In the end they do give in.

'You are very tough, Mister Stark,' the President tells Tony when they reach an impasse and any more talking seems superfluous.

'I've learned morals from Captain America himself,' Tony returns and notices both Rhodey and Fury smirking slightly.

'Director Fury will travel back with you,' Richard or whatever his name is tells Tony as soon as they say goodbye to the President and his crowd of people goes back to the room. 'He needs to be in New York to meet his ex-agents in War Division headquarters for the city – and we want someone to straighten whichever words about the transfer you might alter slightly while talking to _your_ team.'

'Whatever you say, your majesty,' Tony replies, only slightly mockingly, and follows the man through the long corridors. Fury is two steps behind Tony, keeping up with the pace and probably staring at Tony's back since he definitely feels someone's eyes – or an eye – on him.

'President didn't tell you everything,' Fury states as soon as they are in Tony's jet, alone in the cabin, with JARVIS taking care of making their talk _very_ private. He ignores Tony's _of course he didn't_ stare. 'There have been threat letters arriving to the White House, as if to make sure the government won't act against the Emperor's wishes.'

'What does he want then? The statement is not out there yet –'

'It will be,' Fury assures Tony. 'Soon. He's warned us. So, what does he want from the President? Closing of several research facilities that are crucial for the country's safety. Retraining of several thousand scientists. Abandoning the special educational programs in the US and all over the world because according to him, the development of sciences and technology turned out to be the downfall of the world.'

_What_?

'So he wants the world to be like what, Neanderthals? Planet of the Apes?' Tony asks,

Fury just glares, but it is a valid question, if you bother translate it using a Stark to Everyone Else dictionary.

'Okay, I know what you're hinting at. I am a target, blah blah –'

'Stark, don't be –'

'I'm not dismissive,' Tony interrupts the man's predictable speech. 'I'm not I – I can admit that it's scaring me, this madman-from-the-future thing. I've seen how their weapons work, the ones the apparently invisible people killed all those officials. The footage from Vienna, I'm sure you've seen it – it shows how that gun thing works. It's like a science fiction movie effect in real life. I don't know how to make something like that, maybe if I had one in my hands – but well, I don't. And I _am_ a guy producing tech. I'm fighting with tech. I trust my tech with my life, literally,' Tony says, tapping slightly at the arc reactor in his chest. 'It's easier to think about everything when I say it as if it were a joke. Even if I know it's not. A psychological method that works on me, you see.'

'I see,' Fury agrees, his voice sounding even lower than normally, and then he says nothing more. Tony waits a few moments and then there is no other comment, he turns his attention to the newest update on SI Los Angeles factories – everything is fine, back to work, actually all of SI facilities are operating as if nothing has happened.

* * *

The team is waiting for Tony is the penthouse, everyone but Bruce sprawled on the sofas of the fluffy carpets. That means food is being cooked – yes, definitely, the smells only assures Tony. Rice and curry it seems.

'Hey, Director,' Clint greets the other man first and everyone seems to become aware of Fury's presence all of sudden, didn't JARVIS announce them? 'Nice to see you.'

'I'm yet to see the day you'd be enthusiastic to see _me_,' Fury shoots back and takes a second before heading for the nearest empty chair, unknowingly making a decision for the team that the dinner will be eaten in the living room area, in their laps.

'Nicky is here to make sure I don't lie to you or something – and he just used me to hitch a free ride,' Tony clarifies, sitting down next to Natasha who first gives him a long assessing look and then a curt nod of approval. 'No, seriously, the President really wants us in his newest tin soldiers division – I mean the War Division. You know. Which is an obvious madness but well. It goes like this…' Tony starts and tell the team everything they've talked about in the basement of the White house.

There is a variety of reactions to each of the things Tony recounts but very few of them are the happy ones. Phil appears to be the calmest – he usually is, but Fury's presence seems to provide him some feeling of stability or some other psychological support Tony's never been good at – and Steve seems to be the most approving, despite the cute frown lines on his forehead.

'So Midgard is fighting against a force it doesn't know,' Thor concludes and Tony suddenly wonders where his girl, Doctor Foster, might be. New Mexico doesn't sound too safe. 'And according to the words of your leader, our involvement will raise the spirits and persuade youngsters to join the fight against evil.'

'According to them – you could put it that way, yes,' Tony confirms, rubbing his temples and internally screaming for some more Tylenol. 'It also means we would _not_ be superheroes saving the world anymore, not really –'

'Is that all that matters to you?' Fury asks, raising his voice a bit.

'No,' Tony replies, closing his eyes. A lie. Yes. Iron Man is the part of Tony's identity that seems stable and makes sense and is good, so he'd pretty much prefer to continue being a superhero. 'No,' he repeats, trying to collect his thoughts. 'But I don't think I'd fancy answering to a commander of a division or whatever i's supposed to be called – I can listen to Cap, but he is _Cap_,' Tony adds, shooting Steve a wry smile. 'I don't want jurisdiction –''

'But we are _at war_, Tony,' Steve interrupts him softly and suddenly all eyes are fixed on him, making Steve blush slightly. 'It's not a game. We cannot do whatever we want – don't give me that look. I know exactly what I did back in Second War, breaking all the orders and getting things my own way. Only that, back then, I was – I was the only _exceptional_ person besides Red Skull, so I had a great advantage, and now there are many more of extraordinary individuals around. So our odds are completely different, and… I disobeyed orders but there _were_ orders. We can't just continue all on our own now, not when the country's security is at stake. It requires strategy – and cooperation.'

'Hate that,' Tony shrugs theatrically and it makes a flicker of amusement fly through Steve's face.

'There is some truth to Steven's words,' Thor speaks up, glancing at everyone around. 'I do not take pleasure is listening to you, mortals, but if it were to bring more good than harm, I shall consider.'

'I'm with Tony,' Bruce says, entering the room with a tray full of bowls and forks and a steaming bowl of rice; of course he was listening to the whole conversation via JARVIS. 'I don't want any control. I'd prefer if we were separate from everyone and everything, for obvious reasons – it's not like the other guy will take orders from just anyone, anyway – but I'll do what the majority wants,' he finishes and disappears again to bring the rest of the food.

'Clint?' Steve asks, handing out the bowls without looking at them.

'To be honest, I just want S.H.I.E.L.D. back,' Clint sighs and glances at Phil. 'But we are former agents anyway, so I assume we must at least go to the meeting with the War Division. I know we could pull the special status card and everything, but you know. I don't wanna be on their bad side.'

'I think we should give it a try,' Coulson says just that, looking back at Clint, and just then Bruce comes in with the expected steaming pot and places it on the carpet between Natasha and himself.

'I'd rather not,' Natasha says and Tony breathes in relief even though they are still outnumbered, but then she adds, 'but I take Director would be out liaison – not a commander, but he'd supervise –'

'That's no real power,' Tony argues: Fury did admit that just like the President said, he's being cut off from a position of an actual big responsibility and transferred to a position of much smaller responsibility.

'Nevertheless, I trust Director,' Natasha states, meeting Tony's eyes for a second and they're full of determination. 'He trusted me.'

'So, we are pretty outnumbered, Brucie,' Tony states with only slight disappointment in his voice. 'I guess we suck it up and eat the curry then.'

Bruce gives him a long and remotely approving look, as if he was trying to say _thank you for not being a whiny brat about this and accepting for once that things don't always go your way _– Tony could swear those are the exact words Bruce is thinking. Very likely.

So they eat; it's tense at the beginning, as if an argument was about to break out, but after a few moments of silence filled only with the eating noises someone says something in almost a whisper and a moment later a soft murmur of conversation fills the room. Tony eats his curry, mentally cataloging all the SI projects he needs to have a look at tonight instead of letting himself dwell on the team's decision. There are at least a few ideas for the government that he wants to at least write down with JARVIS, in addition to the projects to reviews. A busy night date with coffee, it seems.

Fury stays for dinner but leaves before they get to the obligatory dessert – nothing fancy, no one is really in the mood for fixing something time-consuming – and then they slowly disappear from the penthouse, everyone going back to their own engagements.

'We will still be a team – no separating us, Tony. Don't worry. We will just… cooperate with other people to get the best results we can,' Steve rephrases his earlier words when he walks Tony to the workshop. He sounds tired; everyone sounds perpetually tired these days.

'I know,' Tony sighs; knowing doesn't mean he likes it. He really doesn't. For the last two years Tony's been insisting that they are _not_ soldiers and well, now they are about to become exactly that.

He nods though and waves at Steve before disappearing behind the opaque glass wall; JARVIS has all the current events summarized on the main screen already. Time to go back to the real work.

* * *

**A/N:** This story is different from what I usually write so all feedback is very welcome. I'd love to know what you think. I hope I got you intrigued ;)


	2. 2

**2**

'Let's move,' Tony tells JARVIS as soon as he's down in the workshop. 'Dummy, coffee. Lots of coffee, please, you can take this giant mug someone got me for some occasion some years ago, go on, you know which one. JARVIS, does this mean there hasn't been any incident within the time I was gone? Just those few sightings?'

'Yes. Also, according to some sources I was able to access, European leaders are going to meet in Brussels within twelve hours.'

'Risky,' Tony murmurs, taking off his jacket and throwing it on a chair. Butterfingers rolls towards him a moment later, bringing him a change of working clothes; not like Tony would care about getting his suit dirty, but Pepper would be mad about the dry cleaning again.

'Less risky than trying to set up a teleconference or relying on any other virtual means of communication.'

Right. No one really knows if the Emperor can break through any kind of security – he hasn't exactly hacked any database as far as anyone knows – but it's only a logical assumption, given his obvious technical supremacy.

'You're right there, J,' Tony agrees, his voice muffled by the t-shirt he's just putting over his head. 'Pretty sure they won't risk any kind of electronics not to give Emperor heads up, just in case, if they have any sense of self-preservation… Anyone we know will be there to get some data?'

'The Commissioner, sir.'

'Perfect,' he smiles to himself. One good information at least; the Commissioner is Tony's old _friend_, as far as business goes, from the times when Tony travelled through Europe after graduating MIT. They've kept in touch all these years – mutual benefits, of course; the man is a very sharp and intelligent person, too, who enjoys a good conversation sometimes and Tony is good at those, even if not many people know. Most people would probably say he doesn't have _time_ for conversations and he's totally fine with that assumption. Most people aren't worth even a minute.

'Shall I turn off the news feed now?'

'Do that. Keep me informed in case something radical happened, but I need to focus – give me the specs for the energy detector, the second set, it should work on those weapons as far as I can tell, we just need a few tweaks –'

'May I suggest something, sir?' JARVIS cuts in, making Tony raise an eyebrow and look up at the A.I.'s nearest camera.

'Yes?'

'Would you mind finishing the codes you were working on before, for separate control systems for the suits?'

'We talked about that, right, J?' Tony asks, trying not to shiver visibly, although this is giving him a bad feeling.

'Just in case, sir,' JARVIS replies in a voice much quieter than usual. Shier, maybe. 'For your own safety.'

'… if you want me to,' Tony replies after a long pause. It's not like JARVIS can _feel_, it's not like he can have emotions, but at the moment Tony has this impression that JARVIS is scared. Though it's stereotyping: the A.I. is just considering all possible options and using mathematical methods to analyze all the data. 'It shouldn't take that long,' Tony adds and sits down in front of the main screen. 'Show it.'

JARVIS does display the code and it takes Tony a minute to look over last lines and pick up working. Music starts playing without prompting and Tony nods his head to the rhythm unconsciously as he works.

* * *

'JARVIS, time?' he asks for what feels like hundredth time.

'7:14 a.m., sir. May I suggest you rest?'

'You may,' Tony smirks and goes back to work. Dummy brings him a fresh cup of coffee and a Danish – how is there something like that in workshop Tony doesn't know – and nudges Tony's arm until he eats it. 'Thanks, little one,' Tony says, patting Dummy's arm and then sends him away. 'Daddy needs to work.'

* * *

'Sir, you have been in the workshop for consecutive twenty-five hours and you have completed nine different projects during that time, if you lost count. Perhaps a rest is in place?'

'J, I just need to do this this one thing –'

'You are saying this for the third time.'

'You know I _must_,' Tony counters, biting his lip and erasing one line on the blueprint that's messing up his design.

'… of course, sir,' JARVIS agrees. Tony swears the A.I. would sight if he could.

'Miss Potts asked me to remind you of a board meeting tomorrow at 10 a.m. sharp.' JARVIS tells Tony a few minutes later. Tony groans and rubs his eyes. '10 p.m. sir.,' he says before Tony can ask about the time. 'Captain Rogers has expressed his worry about your physical state.'

'Tell him to stop being a mother hen – and run this simulation for me, chop chop, we don't have time for useless talks.'

JARVIS does as he is told – at least runs the simulation, the results are satisfying, so Tony saves the file and makes sure he'll have it tomorrow with himself to show to R&D and build an actual prototype. He can only wonder if JARVIS did forward his comment to Steve. Very unlikely, JARVIS and Cap like to bond over politeness and manners that Tony can't bring himself to care about.

Tony goes to sleep at midnight, finally, and sleeps uninterrupted until 6 a.m.

'You're getting mushy,' he murmurs to himself as he peels the cover off his skin and, instead of getting cleaned up, puts on some workout clothes and heads for the gym. There's absolutely no surprise in seeing Steve there, methodically destroying a punching bag.

'Bad dreams, Cap?' Tony asks, taking a few sips of his sports drink and starting to warm up. Steve doesn't even turns his head.

'You had two years to find out that I tend to get up early,' he replies with a resigned sigh. Tony nods in agreement, it took him full five days to find out that it's the thing that Captain Steve Rogers does. 'Do you want to spar?'

'Nah, I thought I could do some strength training today, you know, not all people's muscles just happen to appear by themselves,' Tony jokes, walking up to a bench press.

'So you keep telling me,' Steve replies, between heavy breathes – Tony can hear the smirk in his voice – and the punching bag is down a second later.

They spend almost two hours in complete silence, interrupted only by occasional deeper breath or a squeak of some of the equipment. At 8 sharp JARVIS informs Tony of the time and Tony gets off the treadmill.

'It was a pleasure,' he tells Steve before leaving the room, but he manages to see Cap smiling at him; Tony has learned a long time ago that it's one of Steve's ideas of quality time, getting sweaty in the gym together. Almost as good as communal breakfasts.

* * *

A shower and a smoothie later Tony is finishing buttoning his shirt when his phone rings; the screen says that the caller is General Reuben. Tony frowns, trying to remember what exactly has he done this time, but then he realizes it's about the two project propositions he sent to DOD sometime in the middle of the night.

'We'll take them both, Mister Stark. As soon as you can. I'll see you tonight – I believe you and the rest of your team will be present at the War Division meeting?'

'We will,' Tony confirms, putting on a tie and adjusting it. Now, a pair of sunglasses and he's ready to go.

'Until later, then,' the man says and hangs up. That's the kind of phone calls Tony likes: very short – therefore relatively safe. Clever.

'Pepper waiting for me?'

'Downstairs, sir.' JARVIS answers promptly and opens the elevator doors.

It doesn't take long to get to Pepper's office – it's in the same building, in the end, even if a few dozen levels below the penthouse and then at the end of a maze of corridors that separates it from Tony's personal elevator. He shows her the few projects he managed to complete and she approves with a small smile. She might be a ruthless CEO and a sharp woman, but she's a sweetheart inside, Tony knows, and she is visibly relieved that he's coming up with ideas that should really make people safer, even if it's something as simple as a Starkphone app that provides the phone with a free-of-charge connection with a special emergency number after pressing the on/off button for five seconds.

'It provides the receiver with navigation coordinates of the caller's position straight away,' Tony tells the board members a few minutes later and they hum in contemplative agreement. Tony thinks. 'As for the army, there is the energy tracker we've started working on a few months ago – I had another look at it an calibrated it as well as possible based on all data we have on the Emperor's people's weapons…' Tony talks and talks and talks until everyone seems at least half satisfied, even though he's perfectly sure they'll at least ask him about weapons before the meeting is finished – and they do. Or they try to.

'Are you sure you won't reconsider –' Santos starts, but Tony cuts in before the man can get to the obvious point.

'I am sure. And I think we're finished here,' he says and disappears from the room, Pepper's heels clicking behind him. 'Don't tell me I could have been less rude –'

'You did good,' she interrupts, catching up with him. 'Did you sleep?' she asks, actually sounding surprised.

'We have meeting with War Division tonight and I have no idea what'll be going on there, so I thought it would be nice to actually register what is going on around me.'

Pepper laughs, a bit nervously, and shakes something off Tony's sleeve. She knows well enough that Tony after more than two days without sleep is working on automatic mode, which means all he can talk and think about is what his brain is always occupied with – his work. Everything else seems to go over his head, at least unless lots of alcohol is involved, but Tony and lots of alcohol have kind of a love-hate relationship right now.

'Eat lunch with me?' Tony asks when they get back to Pepper's office, glancing at his clock; it reads 12:02.

'I have a meeting,' Pepper replies apologetically and pack her suitcase, walking around Tony quickly and efficiently, and two minutes later she is ready to leave. Tony just stands in the middle of the room and watches her, amused. 'I'm sure your teammates would be happy to see your face again,' she adds and pushes him towards the door. 'I'll be back by two,' she tells her secretary and walks out after Tony.

He kisses her on the forehead.

'Keep safe, Miss Potts.'

'As always, Mister Stark,' she nods and disappears inside the elevator. Tony sighs and makes his way back to his personal space, but after a moment of hesitation presses the penthouse button instead of the workshop one.

'J, who's in for lunch?'

'Everyone but Mister Thor. He is back in New Mexico,' JARVIS explains before Tony can ask the question.

'How likely that it's gonna turn into an interrogation?'

'I'd advise you to keep eating and claiming you can't speak,' JARVIS offers drily, making Tony snicker. The team is a sweet thing, surely, but sometimes they can be a bit… overbearing. As if they didn't realize that somehow Tony has managed to keep himself alive and fed and happy most of his life, and even CEO-ed his business efficiently. They just like treating him like a child, it seems, and it's kind of fun. Most of the time.

'So, how was the meeting?' Tony hears as soon as he enters the penthouse; everyone is sitting by the dining table that has been turned into a kind of salad bar.

'Fruitful,' he replies and ruffles Clint's hair as he passes. The archer scowls, but Tony ignores him skillfully. 'Just as I was hoping for. Managed to run away before guys could start nagging me about producing weapons,' he adds, smiling at Bruce who totally gets it and returns the smile.

Tony serves himself, putting a bit of each salad on his plate, then draws his legs up to his chest and places the plate on his knees. Steve is glaring – only a bit, but still glaring – and Tony sighs internally. Cap just _can't_ get used to some of Tony's strange habits.

'By the way, General Reuben will be present at the War Division assemble thingy,' Tony tells them when he's finished eating.

'The one who –'

'Is the army's tech man now? Yup, him,' Tony confirms, standing up. 12:48. Late. 'I'll meet you in here at… half past five?'

'That should be sufficient,' Phil nods approvingly. He looks pretty human now, much less zombie-like, but he's still tense and stressed out. Of course Tony would never say that aloud because Phil would deny it, but after a certain time you just learn to recognize the signs.

Fury hasn't contacted anyone in the meantime, JARVIS would report any call to Tony, and it's obviously putting the agents off a bit.

'Just don't be late!' Steve's voice follows Tony as he steps into the elevator, but he doesn't get to answer because JARVIS shuts the doors.

'J, make sure I'm not late,' Tony murmurs when he's in the workshop, eyes already reading through he summaries JARVIS has waiting for him on the screens. He doesn't really hear the reply.

* * *

'Congratulations,' Clint says with a hint of dry amusement when Tony finally gets to the penthouse, at 5:30 sharp, wearing one of his favorite grey suits, simple but elegant and expensive-looking, which seems to impress most people. Pretty pathetic, but Tony is willing to play the game.

He just rolls his eyes and looks around, noticing that Natasha isn't there.

'Nat is downstairs already,' Phil offers and buttons his jacket. 'Shall we?'

They meet Natasha downstairs, talking with two of Tony's bodyguards. Pepper insisted; the six men are normally with her, but she said she would prefer if he agreed to some additional security. Tony didn't feel like arguing, and now Natasha apparently decided it was her duty to fill them in.

'We're taking the limo,' she states and Tony tries not to roll his eyes as he hands her the keys. Of course they would be taking the limo, it's the only car that can all of them can fit in.

It's not a long drive and before they can start bickering in the back – that usually happens when Tony and Clint or Tony and Steve are in a small space, not to mention all of them – the car drives into an underground garage.

Fury is waiting for them, talking to someone through the comm but stops at soon as they step out of the limo.

'Follow me,' he orders and they do just that, walking a few steps behind the man through the long and completely empty corridors, their steps echoing loudly.

Finally they get to a room three levels higher, after passing by a security checkpoint, and go inside. A noise of many voices at once seems deafening, but just like yesterday, when Tony was meeting the President, the place gets eerily silent when people notice _the_ _Avengers_ – and half of them leaves immediately.

'Sit,' Fury barks and disappears behind a big decorated door, out of place between the newly painted snow white walls and simple wooden floor. They obey again, choosing to sit arm in arm on one side of the big oval table, so that whoever they will be talking to will be opposite of the whole team. A matter of integrity.

A few more people leave within the next two minutes, Fury comes back with a general whose name Tony can't remember, and soon everyone is seated.

Five Avengers plus Phil vs Fury, General Reuben, two other generals and the Richard from President's entourage. The files JARVIS has on the man suggest he's only a secretary to one of Presidents advisors, but obviously that's just a cover. There's always one of those around, Tony knows, the people who seem to be no one but in fact know everything.

'Major General Millard,' Richard introduces the higher man in glasses and with a pretty ridiculous moustache, 'and Lieutenant General McKee,' the other, shorter and thinner man nods solemnly. 'My name is Richard Straker.'

No telling his rank or position. Interesting.

'Of course we know Director Fury,' Tony says, glancing at the dark-skinned man with a straight face. Fury seems unhappy for some reason, but then he usually seems unhappy, so Tony isn't sure he should make something of that.

'Of course you do,' Richard says – Straker, though Tony doesn't think he can start think about the man with his surname now, Richard suits the man's brown neat hair, perfectly common blue eyes and narrow jaw much better – and opens a file he's just pulled out of his briefcase. 'I assume you'd like to know more about War Division. Major General Millard can fill you in,' he smiles at the older man.

'As you know, we disbanded S.H.I.E.L.D.,' the general starts, pauses to cough up, and speaks up again. 'It seems that in current situation we cannot spend funds on an agency targeting a different kind of danger – the kind that S.H.I.E.L.D. usually takes care of _secretly_. Aliens, magic, that kind of thing –'

'Isn't the Emperor a time-traveller?' Clint murmurs quietly, but the general hears it and makes frowns.

'He is, Mister Barton, but we have no interest in focusing on the time-travel itself. What is important to us right now is finding a way to defeat this man and not ask him _how_ he came here, since he already _is_ here. It might not be obvious to everyone, yet, but the man wants to wipe out a big chunk of America's greatest assets. And he potentially, as far as we know, has the means to do it. What we have seen so far, the bombings and the shootings, it was just power play, showing us that he can do whatever he wants. His games with electronics are just another piece of the puzzle – since our world relies so much on it. As far as we know now, he is superior in this matter, and he is several steps ahead.'

'The quiet time we have now is just the calm before the storm,' the other general says. Tony sighs.

'I know this might be boring you, Mister Stark, but I am just trying to make sure you understand the gravity of the situation. We need to catch up with the Emperor. We need to learn to identify his people –'

'Mister Stark has something to show use regarding that matter, I believe,' Reuben cuts in and Tony nods. 'When we finish. Please go on.'

Millard coughs again before continuing.

'And then we need to capture some of those people and interrogate them. There are always individuals who are willing to compromise… To do that, we want you. But first – War Division. You will be a part of War Division, which we created as an intelligence and quick response group, given that your people,' the man turns towards Fury and inclines his head a bit, 'are well-trained and familiar with this line of work. Difficult situations that a usual soldier or policeman wouldn't know how to deal with.'

'Why change the name then?' Clint wonders aloud, squeezing Phil's hand under the table. Phil keeps his face impassive, but Tony smirks slightly.

'It's much more than name change. We change structure, the field of work, but first of all, I will be the one keeping War Division in check, not Director Fury. He might act as your advisor sometimes – but only that. This situation calls for different tactics and cooperation with other armed units and I know best how to coordinate the moves. Also, S.H.I.E.L.D. has a lot of divisions that are unnecessary right now. We can make use of the former tech people, as soon as we know more about the Emperor's weapons, it'll be their job to take care of the guns, but the rest of the agents will be more useful in field than behind computer screens. I have my own people to do the online research, the best in the country.'

'So you want _your_ people to be safe – and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in the potential line of fire because they're likely to stay alive until you debrief them and get all the intel you need. Sweet,' Tony comments, leaning back in the chair. Really. Sweet. Tony is fine with endangering himself, and his teammates are exceptional, but most of the agents are just skilled people – not skilled enough to fight with aliens or people from the future.

Of course they get no say in this.

'You are exaggerating,' McKee declares, leaning over the table, his eyes narrowed. An angry man, Tony notes.

'Whatever,' Tony shakes his head and looks back at Millard.

'There have been… sightings. Of who we believe are Emperor's people. You will be investigating and pursuing. Each of you will lead a team –'

'No, sir,' Steve cuts in, throwing Tony a short _keep silent_ look. 'I am afraid that won't happen.'

'Pardon, Captain?'

'I don't believe each of us will lead a team. I'm sorry.'

'How so?' McKee snarls, leaning over the table again, his shoulders tense.

'We are a team, sir. We don't do solo missions. None of us has doneany since the team was formed,' Steve explains politely, but his face is determined and cold. Tony smirks internally; of course Steve would keep his word. Of course.

'Then you will have to learn to act separately, _sport_,' McKee says, stressing the last word. Steve smiles at prettily, showing his perfectly white teeth.

'I think you misunderstood, sir – we are a team, whether you want it or not. If you don't want us as a team, we will fight _as a team_ outside of your division. It's simple.'

'I thought _you_ were the rational man, Captain, and Stark was the stubborn fool –'

'I can assure you, Lieutenant General, and you should be aware of that yourself, that a team that already knows how to fight together is worth more than four new teams of strangers – uhm, you _didn't_ plan on talking Thor into leading Midgardian people, I hope. He would take offense – and Hulk, he isn't very communicative whereas he's very… picky, when it comes to people. Might be dangerous.'

'… of course not,' Millard says, but he doesn't sound so sure anymore. Cap – generals, 1 – 0.

'I would like to know what do you expect of us, as a team, under your command, sir,' Steve adds in the same polite tone. That's how he wins all the fights with people who don't know his tactics.

'For now, we need to find the Emperor's people. If you would,' Millard spits and chuckles up again; this is getting slightly annoying. 'I will give you all the details that my people find for me and you will do as I say, that way we can assure the success of the missions.'

'Sooo, you'd like us to be like good little soldiers,' Tony says, smiling widely. It's his best business fake smile. 'We're not good at that. I don't do the soldier act, I keep telling that to Captain –'

'You also didn't so team player until you did,' Steve argues, but Phil interrupts before they can say anything more, his quiet voice filling the room with an unexpected force.

'We find a compromise. Between _ourselves,_' he stresses the last word, making sure they know he means _back in the tower_. Tony and Steve both nod curtly, and then Tony gives Steve a look he knows Steve will know how to read.

'We will listen to your command, Major General,' Steve says, making the decision in Tony's place. 'Although, you must be aware that if a situation arises when we believe a decision different than your order is the best thing to do, we'll do as we believe. But we'll refrain ourselves from that unless it's a very unique situation. All right?'

A quick murmur of _yes_ and _sure_ follows.

'I'll take that for now, son, but you and me, we will have words,' Millard states. Richard writes something in his file and closes it.

'Well, Director Fury and Lieutenant General will leave now – I believe the meeting for other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents is to start in fifteen minutes and they will be needed there. And you, Mister Stark, might proceed with presenting us the two toys you promised General Reuben.

'With pleasure,' Tony says, getting up from the chair, and turns on a holo-screen that springs to life over a project he took out of his briefcase.

This presentation goes much quicker than the one at SI – there are considerably less things to say and less people to ask questions – and Tony is done in ten minutes. Reuben hums approvingly most of the time, almost making Tony snap and tell the man to keep silent, but fortunately he's had enough sleep to control himself and somehow ignore the annoying sound. Richard, of course, shows no emotion at all, but Tony wouldn't expect him to.

'That is satisfying,' Reuben states when Tony turns the screen off. 'I want twenty prototypes of both, as soon as possible. We need to do our tests, but prepare to produce much more, Mister Stark.'

'Oh, I will,' Tony replies, putting the projector into his case, but not sitting down. 'I believe we are done here?'

'Oh, yes,' Richard agrees, standing up, and everyone follows. Phil and Clint are not holding hands anymore, Tony notices. It would be fun to see the men's faces, but well, fun is not that important. 'Of course you will be waiting for Major General's commands.'

'Of course.'

'I might contact you in the future, Mister Stark, if the President will require anything of you.'

'You do that,' Tony says, mock-salutes the man and walks out of the room.

'Wait –' he hears from the inside, but doesn't bother to stop, and neither does anyone else.

'I can find my way back, I'm a _genius_,' Tony says loudly, his voice echoing in the corridor as he walks on.

'Sometimes it's hard to believe,' Tony hears Bruce murmur behind his back and smirks. He certainly makes it difficult at times, but a smokescreen is a great diversion tactic. Play fool and people won't expect much more of you.

* * *

Back in the tower, before Tony can disappear in the workshop, he's dragged to the kitchen by hand. Of course it's Clint, it's always Clint. And of course it's about team dinner, it always is.

'Please, Tony. Stay for half an hour. We all know that if you go back to your lair we won't see you for days.'

Tony hums in agreement – very true, especially now when he has more than normally on his head, all Stark International factories need special protocols in case the situation got worse, in case something radical happened. Something will happen at some point and Tony has to be prepared. So, new security protocols, making sure the production will proceed without problems for now, halting manufacturing some less important products and instead starting on the new ones – meeting with R&D, he'll need to actually get out of the workshop for that…

And being on a standby, waiting for the old man's commands.

Maybe he can spare this half an hour for dinner now.

* * *

Millard's men are pretty good, it turns out – or they've been on this for some time now – and it takes them only two days to get enough data to send the team on a mission.

Tony's in the middle of a project when the general calls. He came back from R&D meeting a few hours earlier, managed to catch maybe three hours of sleep, and is drinking his second cup of coffee while typing something with his other hand when JARVIS kills the music; Tony knows straight away what it means.

'Save the files. Get the bots secure this –' he gestures at the half-ready installation on the workbench. 'And get the suit ready,' he adds. 'I'll be up in a sec.'

He goes to the bathroom, washes his face with cold water and puts on an undersuit for the armor that he stared using a few months ago. Before leaving the workshop, he drinks the remains of the coffee in one gulp and a moment later he's up on the Quinjet level. The suit's waiting for him there, as well as the rest of the team – oh. Even Thor is present. Tony didn't realize the god was back from New Mexico; JARVIS must have told him, but well, Tony gets distracted a lot.

'We're going to?...'

'Providence,' Bruce supplies, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He's wearing the pants expandable to Hulk-size, finally a pair that seems to work, Tony notices happily. There's been no chance yet to test them in field, but Tony is sure they'll do all right – and it's not like Hulk would mind if they don't. Really.

'Providence,' Tony sighs as the suit wraps around him, faceplate up. 'Why is it always Providence?'

Clint looks at him questioningly – of course, there was no team mission there, but Tony has a few wild memories from his MIT times and the town just has a bad associations in his head. Coincidences.

'Let's go, guys,' Clint hurries them into the jet and sits behind the controls. 'Ready?'

There's a collective affirmative noise behind and Clint starts the engine.

'General will be on comms or something?' Tony asks Steve as they fly out of New York, as the thought suddenly occurs to him.

'Yes, Tony,' Steve says patiently. 'For emergencies only. In case someone hacked our frequency,' he adds and handles Tony a physical printed copy of the mission briefing. Wow. That's so Steve.

'Sure,' he murmurs, turning his attention to the file. O-kay. Someone has been shot, someone else recognized the kind of weapon used and the man who did it and reported him to the police – that was a week ago? – and from there the army observed the area closely and it seems like a few of Emperor's goons have taken residence in an old flat in one of the buildings on the outskirts of the city. The goal is simple: go there, get the men, get the guns, don't get killed, don't get anyone else killed.

The only tough part is that no one really knows what the gun do, how they work, but that's the reason the Avengers are there in the first place, right?

And this is exactly how it goes: Clint lands the Quinjet out of the city, there are cars waiting for them – civilian cars, of course – and they get to the indicated address pretty quickly. Tony listens to Clint pointing out where military snipers are hidden, in case the men tried to run away, while Phil drives. Since they don't want to talk over the comm more than absolutely necessary, Phil is mostly mental support. He's obviously not happy with that, but he's more mature than to complain.

'I'll stay here,' he tells the rest of the team when he stops a few block away from the bad guys' flat. 'Be safe,' he adds when they get out of the car; Thor, Bruce and Natasha get out of the other one.

Then it goes like this: they approach the apartment from different directions, securing all possible escape routes, Natasha gets inside through the main door – an option as good as any – and three minutes and a few blue shots later they have four men down. No one's hurt, no Avengers at least, Tony can't guarantee the bad guys' bones integrity. Fortunately, the guns' shots haven't hurt anyone, although there are a few ugly marks on the walls, looking like deep burns. Interesting.

There are seven of those guns in the flat – and no other tech or anything that could suggest that Emperor's people had a liar there. So it seems like it's just a temporary living arrangement.

Millard's soldiers some in two minutes later and take the men into the custody – and put six of the guns into special cases. Steve doesn't even blink when Tony hides one of them into his own secure _pocket_ on the suit; he would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to do his own research on the tech. A gun from the future. He would be an _idiot_ not to.

'Good job,' Millard says over the comm when he gets a signal from one of his men that the mission was successful. His voice is cold and he doesn't sound to happy, but it's probably just his usual demeanor. 'I'll meet you for debrief in four hours. Usual place.'

'Yes, sir,' Steve acknowledges the information and leads the team out of the flat, now swarming with policemen and soldiers. 'Are we free to go?' he asks the same man who called Millard.

'Yes,' the man says distractedly, not looking away from a file in his hands, so they leave the building and get back to the cars. Phil is waiting, leaning against one of them and browsing something on his Starkphone, but he pockets it as soon as he sees them.

'I heard shots.'

'The walls got hurt,' Tony snickers and Phil narrows his eyes dangerously, so Tony doesn't say anything more, just gets into the car.

The trip back is uneventful. JARVIS informs Tony that there have been two more shootings within last two hours, in Manila and Oslo, attack on citizens, it seems, not any officials.

_Coincidences_, Tony thinks, a cold feeling setting down in his gut. There are no coincidences.

Either the future man is sloppy and chooses idiots for his soldiers – not very likely – or it was all just too easy. Suspiciously easy.

* * *

There's no time for rest back in the tower, the Team has an hour before they're supposed to meet with Millard, so everyone gets cleaned up, changes clothes and grabs a sandwich, and then they have to leave again.

Millard doesn't seem to think it was all suspiciously easy, something the team agreed on during a conversation in the limo. He says his men are just very good. Well, possible, just not very likely.

Although, truth to be told, Tony isn't sure the general is being serious. For all they know he might be bluffing. Tony wouldn't trust the man with anything, really, it seems as if there is a greater game behind the scenes that they are not supposed to know about.

The debrief is quick, one positive thing, and the whole team is finally free to rest – or go back to work, in Tony's case. Bruce is working, too, helping him with some algorithms and research, while the others are refining the skills their lives depend on. Tony thinks he might join the training in the morning, after he's finished that piece he was working on before the call came – and after a few hours of sleep. It's two days on three-hour-long nap and the gun from the future might need a bit more of Tony's attention than his own tech that he knows inside out.

'Miss Potts asked me to tell you she hopes you remember about the lunch you are supposed to have with her tomorrow, to talk about Stark International strategies –'

'Make it a dinner,' Tony cuts in, gesturing at the bots to bring back the elements they secured when he left and put them back on the workbench, as well as bring him his tools. 'I think me and Bruce, we'll have a lunch date with blue ray of death.'

'That was a poor joke,' JARVIS comments very drily, but Tony is already elbow-deep in his work, literally, so the A.I. doesn't say anything else, just plays Tony's music.

* * *

When Tony and Bruce test the gun, the rest of the team is sitting on the sofa and observing intently, exchanging hushed comments; the scene could be pretty hilarious if the gun wasn't an object that actually caused somebody's death.

But it's _fascinating_.

Tony can't find a better word – the tech is just breathtaking, like an engineer's wet dream, it should probably feel somehow wrong to swoon over the madman's weapon, but Tony can't help himself. It's pretty obvious that this thing must be from future – the first real proof that the Emperor has been telling the truth – because Tony's own works are years ahead of what most of the world has to offer, and this… it's like a crown jewel compared to a cheap little gemstone.

JARVIS makes sure everything is safe and secured before they actually fire the gun. All sensors and readers are on, registering the energy output and every single traceable detail of the gun's shoot – if it can de described like that. It's actually more of a continuous stream of energy, colored in blue, but fundamentally different from Chitauri tech that was laced with magic. This – this is pure science.

Pretty hypocritical of the _Emperor_ to use exactly this kind of tool, when he wants to eliminate technological progress.

'I want one,' Natasha says as soon as it's safe to go in the testing room, the gun in a safety of a metal case.

'Hey, don't steal my sayings!' Tony whines, but he's smirking. Nat would surely make great use of the weapon, even if Phil is better than her with small arms. Of course Clint is still the best marksman, but his face tells better than words what he thinks about using a gun instead his bow, especially now that he has quite a wide array of custom arrows.

'Good job, Tony,' Steve offers and Tony shoots him a brilliant smile and turns to Bruce.

'I need your help now, Jolly Green. We've got work to do.'

'That meaning?'

'JARVIS will prepare all data we need and now we only have to to come up with fiber for our uniforms – and, potentially, all army uniforms – that would withstand the gun's shoot. Like, a new generation bullet-or-something-proof vest.'

'Of course. _Only_,' Bruce sighs but follows just behind Tony.

There are a few ideas in Tony's head that he doesn't mention since he can work on them later, alone, as soon as he has the readings and can make tests with the gun and Cap's shield. Not the primary use one, of course, Steve would have his head – one of the spares will do. If it works, he's going to give up a few nights to come up with a rational enough designs of a vibranium suit.

* * *

The war turns out to be… pretty mellow, compared to Tony's idea of one. Of course it the heated fights have never happened _everywhere_ at once, people used to sit back in relative safety, even if hungry and cold – but not in a direct line of fire, most of the time. It's just discontenting because the stuffy atmosphere is almost suffocating: shootings keep happening, mostly targeted on scientists and their families or young prodigies, but often also at random citizens. Or seemingly random, but not even JARVIS can find a pattern. There are a few more times the disturbance regarding all electronics happens, but there are no planes with bombs, no nukes, no threats in the internet.

Some countries are even wondering if the war is still really going on – most of the public opinion does, too – but everyone with a bit more resources knows that there're little things going on behind the scenes, like the constant communication that the President, and a few other people all over the world, keep receiving.

By post, with brilliant stamps from Greenland. The letters just seem to turn up.

After two weeks of constant work, interrupted only by SI business and team dinners, the gun-proof fiber is ready. Avengers suits are re-done but the army says it lacks resources to pay for such clothing for all soldiers, still buying uniforms for the important people, military as well as civilian, and there are a lot of orders from all over the world. Placed through secure means of communication, of course, and only by a set of individuals privy to such sensitive information.

'Let's keep the Emperor in the dark as long as possible,' Tony tells Richard during one of the War Division meetings.

'Exactly,' the man agrees and they exchange a set of those awful paparazzi smiles.

The team goes out several times within the month and the missions almost always go exactly the same way. There are two situations in which they find the bad guys dead, obvious suicide, but there're never any notes. Those captured are much less forward than everyone has hoped and it seems that they really don't know that much, anyway. It doesn't take a lot of reasons or motivation for those insane individuals to be persuaded to kill in the name of greater good.

'I can't believe that people would side with a man like the Emperor,' Steve says one time over his plate of pasta, when he and Tony are eating lunch alone; the rest of the team is scattered throughout the tower.

'We've been over this like hundred times,' Tony replies, his words muffled as he puts a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. His method of eating from a plate placed on his knees is much more efficient with this dish: the sauce simply doesn't have a possibility to stain anything.

'I still can't believe, I mean, there were those people who believed in Hitler's words during my war, _genuinely_, but a helluva lot was just forced to obey, and these people – they all do that because they want to, right? But then I guess Emperor doesn't need as many people.'

'No, he doesn't,' Tony agrees, thinking about one of the recent attacks: one man in Spain managed to kill seven biochemistry students that were working together in a lab. They didn't get any chance to run away or defend themselves.

War in the times of mass communications, widely accessible and working, most of the time, at least – it's one of the reasons the Emperor lets people have they electronic gadgets – is more about terror and self-perpetuating spiral of fear. Even a smallest attack is all over the internet within a minute and the public goes crazy, and it keeps repeating. Carpet-bombings are no longer necessary to eliminate people when some communities start to isolate, or even cast out, scientist and researchers and everyone who could be a target.

That's one thing Tony has to admit the Emperor is right about: some of the inventions can prove harmful. Really harmful.

That's why Tony puts all his resources into creating things that will balance it out and he does a dam good job at that, even if he ends up permanently undersleeping.

* * *

After that busy month, Tony spends three weeks between his usual work and travelling to SI factories and facilities all over the country to ensure their safety, talk with people, see how work's going on – everything seems to be okay. Everything seems to be fine. Seeing Tony Stark in person seems to boost morale among the employees and it makes Tony feel a bit like Steve must have felt when he did his USO tours, awkward and kind of funny at the same time. Tony is _much_ more used to crazy crowds, but this kind of attention – this kind of hope and trust in people's eyes – is slightly discontenting, even after so many years of being Iron Man, but he's willing to do everything to live up to their expectations.

Things are… as well as they can be, all things considered.

Right until all the semblance of peace is spectacularly shattered, of course.

* * *

'You have an international call, sir,' JARVIS states, lowering the music's volume, when Tony is just finishing the gauntlet for his new suit. It took _ages_ to find an option that would maintain a good power-to-weight ratio, since vibranium is quite different from all the metals and alloys Tony has worked on before, and just the process of producing all the elements made out of the metal that does reflect the gun's _shots_ takes a long time.

'From?' Tony prompts, a bit irritated; he's about a day behind his schedule with work, thanks to Millar who insisted on a recon mission that proved completely useless and just made everyone tired and jet-lagged.

'I am unable to trace the caller,' JARVS admits and that makes Tony drop the tools and straighten his back. _Unable to trace the call_, that's a bit conspicuous, isn't it?'

'Patch it through, J, he's gonna talk to me whether I want it or not –'

'You are right, of course,' a low, surprisingly warm voice says out of the speakers; Tony's tech is good enough not to distort it at all and it feels as if someone was standing just behind Tony's back – no one is, he's checked in the reflection a piece of metal on his desk. 'How nice to talk to you finally, Mister Stark.'

'How nice of you to stop playing this stupid game,' Tony replies, cracking his knuckles; wow, his hands are a bit numb from all the work he's been doing lately.

'Well, I'm not quite sure you'll call what I have in mind _nice_, but if you insist,' the man laughs, his voice echoing through the workshop. 'I must congratulate you on the work you did so far. Magnificent, for beings so… behind in times. I had an opportunity to test out your new invention, if you are not aware,' the man adds, waiting for Tony's reaction. Tony _is_ aware, he got the message a few minutes earlier, but he's not going to share that. 'How unsurprisingly disappointing.'

_Disappointing my ass_, Tony comments in his head. He's not stupid enough to let the man know how much _he_ knows, since it might be his only advantage.

'Was there anything specific you wanted?' he asks the man, his voice reflecting a perfectly studied boredom. The Emperor appreciates that, just like Tony's expected.

'Well, you are clever enough to know what I want. Turn yourself in, disband your business, forget all those futuristic dreams you have – those are quite dear things, what they write about you in papers these days –'

'Or?'

'Well, there is no _or,_' the Emperor laughs again. Tony feels slightly nauseated with the man's antics. 'I'm going to remodel the world – change the direction in which the society is going. Force it to go back to what was right and what can ensure its survival.'

'What has happened that was so terrible that you put all this effort into your game?' Tony questions, standing up, and starts pacing around the room.

'I've seen the destruction that you brought upon the planet –'

'Me? As in _me_? I think you might be giving me too much credit –'

'You were the one who made everything accelerate,' the Emperor explains calmly. 'Even here and now some people have noticed that already.'

'Your army,' Tony states, nodding to himself. 'I get it.'

'I knew you would –'

'Should I feel flattered?' Tony wonders aloud, patting Dummy and You on their arms. Butterfingers is nowhere to be seen. JARVIS' impatience is almost thick in the room, well, as far as an A.I.'s impatience goes.

'I think so, Mister Stark – or shall I call you _Tony_?'

'What would I call you then?' Tony doesn't miss a beat, gesturing at the bots to go back to their duties. No need to make everything more dramatic than it already is.

'Why, my name is Steven,' the Emperor allows and Tony's hear nearly stops behind the arc reactor. 'What a lovely coincidence, isn't it?'

'Wait, what –' Tony manages, but there is only more laughter pouring from the speakers. 'Is it what I think –'

'Enjoy yourself now,' the man says with amusement, ignoring Tony. 'I hope you will find this challenging,' he adds and the connection is gone. JARVIS signals Tony with red, that means he still didn't manage to trace the caller during the talk.

'Fuck,' Tony whispers, running hand through his hair. 'Fuck, fuck, _fuck_, JARVIS, does that mean what I think it means –'

'I have no way of determining that, sir,' the A.I. offers timidly; the bots are observing Tony from the far end of the room. They are concerned, the little amazing fools they are. Concerned and vulnerable.

'J, call everyone to the penthouse – _now_. Something is gonna happen.'

* * *

The _Emperor's _first real move is simple in its deadliness and it's a reminder of how everything has started: five planes on five continents go down in exactly the same moment. Five different aircrafts, five different airlines, to make sure everyone gets the message.

Control system malfunction, that's how it's reported by the pilots before they crash into the ground.

Almost eight hundred people, Tony can't look at the exact numbers, he feels sick enough already without getting into detail. The response is immediate: most flights down and suspended until further notice. That, of course, will make the _necessary_ flights, like cargo or business or politics-related ones, more obvious. Easier to control. Easier to detect.

The team is in the penthouse, eyes fixed on the screen displaying the news feed and additional information JARVIS is gathering, and everyone seems to keep their breaths, not daring to move. It's morbid and terrifying but no one can look away.

A few minutes into the transmission Tony's phone beeps and he's not surprised to see that JARVIS forwarded a message from the Emperor: _your move. _

It's a challenge, a metaphorical glove thrown at Tony's feet, and he isn't even surprised – if a madman comes from future and wants to stop all technical and scientific development to stop, _who_ can be his main target? Come on. There is only one person. He's just been informed.

All the other geniuses are clever enough to get locked up in their labs and _not_ privatize the world, even if for people's benefit. Charity always backfires, at least on Tony Stark.

'Guys,' he speaks up, his voice sounding terribly out of place in the room of frozen figures, 'I need to tell you something. Now,' he adds – and tells them everything, recounting his talk with the Emperor almost word to word, omitting only the part about the man's supposed name, he – he just can't. Later. Maybe later.

'So you've got a madman who's after you,' Clint summarizes, playing with Phil's hand, his shoulder pressed against the older man's body.

'After a big chunk of this world personified in me, yes –'

'What does he want, exactly? From you? Because if you turn yourself in –'

'He'll still act the same way, yes,' Tony interrupts Cap, glancing at the screen for a second; it's still showing one of the burning plane wrecks, the German one. No survivors, not even a chance. The good thing is they all probably died before the plane even crashed.

'So you are obviously not doing that,' Steve concludes, looking at Tony with an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face. He's worried, he's worried out of his mind, Tony can tell. 'We need to meet with Millard – no, don't interrupt me. Me need to meet with him. He might know things we don't, and he can tell us what the government is planning now. Not even JARVIS can get into people's heads, Tony.'

'I get it,' Tony says impatiently. 'It's just that –'

'It's a terrible situation to be put in, Tony,' Bruce states gently, placing his hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. 'But we need to focus on what we can do.'

'This was obviously done to cause even more panic,' Natasha adds, straightening in her armchair. 'Now the flights will be scarce because everyone is already terrified of flying – especially in America, it's reopening old wounds – so people are mostly bound to places they find themselves in at the moment. Easy thing in Europe, you can take a train, for now at least, but Australia… People now aren't used to being restricted and they'll react badly. There surely are families and relationships torn apart – it's a perfect power play on the most basic level.'

'The Emperor knows people now are pretty likely to turn against each other instead of keep together,' Clint quips in, his voice distant, as if he was recounting something from far away in time. 'They will make the job easier for him, eventually, if he manages to keep the fear raising.'

'So we need to act,' Steve finishes, looking everyone in the eye for a moment. 'Rright? We need to show people that they have to trust each other now, as much as possible, and support each other. And, whatever Millard might say, if there is an attack, we _fight_.'

'We fight,' they all repeat in unison, solemnly.

'I need to finish mu suit then,' Tony says after a short pause. 'Brucie, come?'

'Of course,' Bruce replies, standing up and stretching his arms. 'JARVIS will tell us if – when – the general calls us.'

'Clint, move your ass and get down to the gym with me,' they hear Natasha's voice as they walk away quickly. 'It won't do you any good to stare at the screen…'

'I fucking hate my life,' Tony declares when the elevator's door close and it starts moving down.

'It's just a phase?' Bruce offers weakly, making Tony grin, but it's replaced by a cold determination a moment later.

'Pepper needs to be here as soon as possible, I need her to be here – by the way, you know what to do, Jelly Bean,' Bruce nods and rolls his sleeves up. 'We – I need to talk to her,' Tony tells JARVIS before putting on a welding helmet.

* * *

The suit, Mark XXI, is ready two days later, even though Tony honestly can recall how that happens: all he remembers is a mix of worried voices, Pepper's tears, holding her, the general's loud curses and commands, JARVIS telling him to try to eat, and unending sequence of silver metal pieces in front of his eyes interweaving with more and more pictures of the planes, of fires, of the faces of the dead.

Finally the work is done – Bruce's too, he's been working on a long-range energy-reading algorithm that will help in finding the Emperor's people, or at least their weapons – they both crash for half of the day as if unconscious and they would sleep longer if Steve didn't wake them up.

'I'm sorry,' he says, with a strange mix of scared, apologetic and determined tones to his voice. 'We need to go, there has been – and attack, in New Orleans. A skirmish. It seems that the Emperor's people are starting to… crawl out of their holes. We might get busy now.'

Tony and Bruce – somehow they ended up sleeping on Tony's gigantic bed – sit up simultaneously, silently assessing the surroundings: everything seems okay. Dawn breaking outside the window. The city still intact, thank gods.

'Take a quick shower first. And eat – this is an order, Avenger,' Steve states, looking at Tony sharply. 'I won't have you fainting during a fight,' he adds and leaves quickly, just then Tony notices that Steve is wearing his new suit already. Dark blue. Much less conspicuous than the old one.

* * *

_We might be busy _is an understatement of the year, Tony decides when it's third day without a break – not a constant fight, but a constant chase after one group or another. Similar things are going on all around the world, wherever people are brave enough to fight with the better armed men. Stark International's factories are working on 120%, production of all commercial products like the phones and tablet stopped, as many places as possible changing their objective to the anti-ray fabric, energy-reading devices and several other items helpful for everyone, especially the army.

The Avengers are difficult to kill, especially with Thor at their side, since the future guns don't really hurt him – it's just like a scratch, he says. Other people are not that lucky and JARVIS reports the numbers of deaths, constantly raising.

The internet is accessible without any problem, still giving people the possibility of exchanging information, and it's only making the panic worse, but there's nothing to be done in that regard.

* * *

When they finally fulfill all the current orders and go back to New York, everyone is exhausted, both physically and mentally. Thor volunteers to stay up as the others rest, _just in case_, since he's the most difficult one to wear out.

'You go and sleep, my friends,' he tells them solemnly, taking off his cape and folding it carefully with quick skilled movements. 'I and JARVIS will keep watch over the city.'

'J, make sure we get the summary in… eight hours, 'kay?' Tony asks the A.I. as the suit unwraps itself.

'Of course, sir,' JARVIS replies and Tony can breathe in relief; it's still okay, his home. Everything is still okay here.

* * *

There is a meeting with Millard, McKee and Richard the next morning.

'We have received a message from the Emperor,' Richard says without bothering with greetings, as soon as the Avengers are all inside and the room is secured. 'He wrote us just this: _you have two weeks_. Do any of you have an idea what it might mean?'

'Why would we?' Clint asks and Phil looks at him sharply and shakes his head almost invisibly. Clint bites his lip and leans back in his chair, still looking at Richard expectedly.

'We all know he wants Stark,' Richard replies to everyone's surprise – no one exactly said that. See the trust between both sides.

'Yes?' Tony prompts lazily, leaning on the table and looking at the man without blinking. 'I wasn't aware my name was mentioned somewhere.'

'Once,' Richard says tightly. 'And it wasn't even your name – he asked how _our little tech genius _was doing and if he was helping up because we'll need all the support we can get.'

'Should I be flattered?' Tony wonders aloud, gaining a half amused-half scolding looks from Steve and Natasha. The situation is serious but everyone is annoyed with the useless secrecy. 'I will be flattered, thank you… And I might have an idea regarding what the _Emperor_ is going to do, but come on,' Tony says loudly, sitting up straight, 'don't _you_ have an idea? Don't you get it?' he asks the men in front of him, ignoring his team. Bruce must know, and Phil, and the rest of the team probably has a pretty good intuition, maybe save Thor, it's not really his area of expertise.

'Stop fooling around, Stark,' McKee snarls the way he always does, his face red and Tony shakes his head disappointedly.

'He's going to cut off everyone's access to the internet, of course,' Tony explains. It does not mean that the Emperor himself won't have the access, clearly. 'And probably any kind of satellite connection-based things – if there's one thing that'll make the world go even crazier and more scared than now, when it's living off the widely-available scraps of information – it's the opposite. Complete lack of information. Lack of contact. Impossible access to bank accounts, to all data stored online, and of course to news regarding what is happening while there is a _war_ going on.'

Millard blinks a few times, his body unmoving, and presses his lips into a line, McKee looks pale all of sudden – and Richard is Richard. He's unflappable and could possibly, under different circumstances, rival with Phil. Phil would win, but it would be a challenge.

'We need all our people on that, ASAP,' Richard just comments and makes a note in his brown notebook. 'The world will be in shambles.'

The words sound strange said in his calm detached voice.

'Well, if we ignore all those millions of people living without electricity anyway, you are right,' Tony can't help himself – he gets what the man is trying to say, but he he can't stop himself form commenting. Bruce sighs loudly and Tony pats his leg in a _calm down, I won't anymore_ motion. 'But since they're what the _Emperor_ seems to want us all to be, you know, they are pretty safe as long as they don't start to do anything fancy, like science.'

'Mister Stark – will you do something about that?' Millard asks.

'Oh no, that's on you, sir,' Steve interjects before Tony can think of a proper insult to throw at the general. 'Tony is an engineer and a physicist and a few more things, but he's not a computer specialist,' he states firmly and Tony grins at how sweet _computer specialist_ sounds coming from Steve's mouth. 'You cannot make him responsible for this. We will continue doing what we agreed on, but you _won't _put the responsibility of this on anyone from my team.'

The general looks at Steve and then at Tony, but doesn't say anything, just nods sharply.

'You do know I will do _everything_ I can, because this is going to give that Emperor guy a terrible advantage, right?' Tony asks Steve as soon as they are in the limo.

'I will _not _have anyone blaming you for not stopping the unstoppable,' Steve just says. 'We need to come up with strategy, given what is likely to happen.'

They all agree.

The discussion lasts until 3 a.m. when the fully human part of the team is too tired to think clearly enough and Steve sends them to beds, but at least a few scenarios are ready.

* * *

For the next ten days they train and work – there are no more fights to attend to, obviously a sign from the Emperor – and Tony makes sure all SI factories will keep operating using their internal systems, separate from the internet, and in case that is impossible, too, he sends all kinds of instructions to the facilities' managers and makes sure they will still be able to work, even if much more slowly.

The world is blissfully ignorant of the deadline and of what may happen and whenever Tony looks out of the window or goes out and sees these people's faces, he had hard time keeping the nausea at bay.

Maybe it doesn't sound like a scary thing, like big thing, the threat, but it's not the _finale_ – it's only another note in the _prelude_.

* * *

One night Tony wakes up with a start, all covered with sweat, breathing heavily, and he can swear he can hear the Emperor's low and deceptively soft voice purring into his ear the words he messaged Tony earlier: _What will you do to win with me? How far are you willing you go?_

Okay, so no more sleeping.

It's three a.m. Time to go back to work.

* * *

The waiting is making all of them go insane.

Two days before the deadline Tony can't fall asleep at all. He's been talking more of Bruce's magical pills than he should recently, so he won't risk a bigger dose and – he isn't sure he _wants_ to sleep. It's ridiculous, but he has a reason to worry, more than anyone else, right? He has a legitimate, painful and terrifying reason.

JARVIS is an A.I. and – and he _is_ vulnerable, despite Tony's best attempts at securing him. And he – he doesn't want to listen.

'I will be useless like that, sir, cut off from what make me valuable,' he argues, voice calm and maybe remotely shy but decisive.

'We had this talk already –' Tony tries, but it's a lost battle and it almost makes him cry. _Him. Cry._

'Sir.'

'_JARVIS_.'

There is a pregnant pause and the silence is ringing in Tony's ears.

'I don't want to be useless,' JARVIS says in the end, his artificial voice soft. 'This is my world, too, in a way. You made it mine. And if what the Emperor wants really happens, I will – I will never be of use again. You have other programs to run your numbers and do calculations and even run the suits, so I will exist – without a purpose,' he says, sounding almost sad, almost human. 'Let me do as much as I can, sir. Please.'

'So you want to what, stop the Emperor? Singlehandedly? Even though we don't really know how he's going to do that –'

'You said yourself, sir. There is no other A.I., no other mind, artificial or otherwise, that is better than me at this.'

'I did,' Tony admits quietly. He did, many, many times.

'General's people don't have a chance,' JARVIS adds, displaying a set of data on the nearest screes. 'I've been observing their work. I could do _more_. I could react quicker. If anyone can do this –'

'It's you, baby,' Tony admits, smiling at the nearest camera and trying to keep his lips from trembling. 'I know. I just don't – you've been here –'

'I know, sir,' JARVIS offers, quietly.

'But you've grown out of being only my little helper,' Tony comments, smiling slightly, feeling tears pressing his closed eyelids. 'You are a big boy now.'

'I will always be you friend, sir, first and foremost.'

'I know,' Tony whispers, feeling the tears roll down his cheeks, and wipes them in an angry motion of protest. It takes him a long moment to calm down, sitting with his head cast down so that JARVIS won't see the tears. 'We've got work to do then,' he says finally, voice thick but louder. '_Lots_ of work.'

'Yes, sir,' JARVIS agrees.

'Gimmie your code on the screen,' Tony orders and gets up from the sofa clumsily; when he gets to his desk the data is already displayed, so he sits down and starts typing.

* * *

Bruce comes and tries to lure Tony out, but he refuses. Steve comes next – _you've been here for four days, please, Tony –_ but he can't. There isn't – there isn't enough time, there are things that can be fixed and pieces of code that can be added and little thing to secure and and and, always something more, a sudden wave of ideas in Tony's head and not enough time.

Natasha just brings him food and doesn't even say a word. Tony knows Phil and Clint and Thor are observing him from behind the glass, but he's turned the other way so he can't actually see them. Nat stays there until he eats what she brought. It tastes like ash and probably would have been better warm, but it's his own fault.

Pepper comes and manages to peel Tony away from the screen for full half an hour to talk to him, stroking his head with this sad worried gleam in her eyes. Tony didn't tell her anything, he didn't have to, someone form the team did it for him.

Everyone _gets_ it. And they are all are all anxious – there will be riots and fights and madness down in the streets. Terrified crowds, most of them grieving one death or another. And all everyone can do is sit and watch.

* * *

In the end Tony decided he wants to go back in time and murder T.S. Eliot for writing _that_ poem and his English teachers for showing it to him because he can't keep it out of his mind and it's driving him crazy. _But with a whimper, but a whimper, but a whimper_, like a fucking mantra, it's not helping, and he can't calm down his breathing, he knows he's hyperventilating but. It. Doesn't. Matter.

'If anyone can do this, sir, it is me,' JARVIS says as soon as he notices something is happening, on the day of the two-week deadline, as if he was trying to reassure Tony.

It's not really working but Tony pretends it does.

They both know there is _no one_ who can stop this and there is no point in lying, but JARVIS has free will and Tony lets him make the decision and the sole fact of the A.I. _making_ the decision and speaking of himself as _someone_ and not _something_ is more than Tony has ever dreamed of.

It takes a long time and at some point Tony really starts thinking that it will be all right, that it worked, and he just starts to smile when JARVIS speaks up.

'Take care, sir,' he says and _that's it._

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter turned out much longer than I planned and I was trying my best , so I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know, I'm pretty anxious about this story and it means very much to me to know your opinions. Thanks so so much to everyone who has reviewed so far :)


	3. 3

**3**

There is a phone call later that day, Richard is ordering the team to come to the usual place for a quick meeting before he leaves to meet up with the President, which is pretty tough with planes lacking the access to any navigation systems. There are protocols for such situations – and remedies – but it all takes time and efforts.

'You can stay here with Pepper,' Steve tells Tony when everyone is suiting up. They need to get into a car and drive through the craziness that's going on down in the streets. 'Tony. No one has any problem with that, you need –'

'I don't need anything,' Tony snaps, adjusting his jacket and buttoning it nervously, his fingers having hard time finding the holes. 'I'm good and don't tell me I'm not good because it's counterproductive, we need to know what they plan, _I _need to know to ask any questions in case I have some and there are no bugs we can use now so that I could call you and butt in anytime or something like that so – yeah, I'm coming,' he ends, turning around and blinking away the moistness in his eyes.

He doesn't cry. He never cries.

It's only that everything seems to silent, silent and empty –

– it's like going back in time to the time after Afghanistan, alone in the Malibu house, silence filling all possible space. It was not a good time – it was only Tony and JARVIS back then. Now, even – without JARVIS – it's Tony and Pepper and the team and they won't let him suffer alone.

'Stay safe, okay?' Pepper whispers into his ear before kissing him on the forehead. 'I'll be here. There's nothing we can do at SI with what's going on, people aren't exactly thinking business right now.'

'Sure thing,' Tony replies, but stops before entering the elevator and clears his throat. 'If you wouldn't mind – the bots –'

'I've got it,' she smiles weakly. That's his girl. Always understands.

* * *

'Tony, are you –' Steve tries in the car, while the rest of the team is sitting quietly, as if pretending not to be there, what is pretty unusual.

'I'll love you forever if you _don't_ finish that question,' Tony cuts in and turns around, pretending to be observing the view out of the window. Steve seems to get the hint because he keeps silent for the rest of the short ride.

A few minutes later the team in seated in the usual meeting room with the usual crowd present, the two Generals and Richard. Fury is nowhere to be seen. Everyone takes their places – Tony has Steve on his right and Thor on his left, somehow – and for a moment, the room is filled with thick ringing silence.

'Of course the government has plans for situations like this one and of course it's not going to work because Emperor has his people planted _everywhere_. Every time you'll try to keep people under control something'll happen, something drastic, and people will act because they are scared, just like the Emperor wants,' Tony states without being prompted, offering an explanation of the obvious that everyone in the room knows but it seems like it needs to be said anyway.

'That's right, Mister Stark,' Mallard nods. 'What the Emperor threated us with has happened and obviously, you did not manage to –' he looks at Steve and seeing his angry face, stops mid-sentence.

'I will be heading for a strategy meeting with the most capable people in this country,' Richard says slowly. 'We need to review our strategies based on our newest information and apply them in the whole country, I have these files for you,' he adds, holding up a paper folder and a pendrive. 'There is everything you need to know here, regarding safety of our people and our country.'

'For now, we will need you to be available for us if anything happens, any kind of a skirmish, a fight, we need you to there as soon as possible –'

'To arrest the bad guys and boost up the morale, my favorite part of the job,' Clint says with a fake smirk. 'Everyone needs to see now that their heroes are calm and collected and maybe they'll follow. It actually might happen, however far-fetched the assumption might sound.'

'Yes, Mister Barton,' Mallard agrees placidly. 'We need you to be out in the city anyway, even if nothing is actually happening – that second reason, people might not listen to NYPD but they will listen to you.'

'I'm sure we can come up with some badges to wear and some signs to hold when we're strolling around, General,' Tony states solemnly, leaning back in his chair.

'Tony,' Cap says just his name, but the tone is more than enough for Tony to stay silent.

'The president might want to meet with you, Mister Stark –'

'If it's about weapons, the answer is certainly a no.'

'Will you have the means –'

'To get to Washington D.C, yes, what kind of a question is that, Richard, dear?' Tony sighs theatrically and crosses arms on his chest. 'Don't worry about me. You've got my number, gimmie a call, I'll be waiting.'

Richard doesn't seem amused; no one else is really amused – though Clint and Bruce are sporting those special smirks – but the man has even a more sour expression on his face.

'This is a matter of an utmost importance, Mister Stark, in case you didn't notice,' Richard states, looking through the file in front of him, and continues without looking up. 'How are your factories? Will you manage to be on time with all our orders? I believe you received our documentation before this situation –'

'We're working on 100% capacity now, according to my latest information – we were working on 160% before so _this_ is going to slow things down, but there is only so much human hands can do and human minds can process – all out contracts will be fulfilled just like we agreed. Unless something else happens, something we couldn't have predicted, something crazy, you never know with a madman – so far, though, we're dealing well with what we've predicted – by the way, I must mention I'm severely disappointed by the fact that _you_ failed at preventing the Emperors threat from coming true,' Tony finishes firmly, keeping his face blank.

They have _no way_ of knowing what transpired within the Tower – about JARVIS – and Tony just can't pass up an opportunity to remind them that it's _their_ failure.

Steve gives him one of those concerned _please keep quiet _looks again, but Tony wasn't going to say anything more anyway.

Richard, predictably, ignores him completely.

'We are regrouping our forces – all the divisions that have not been regrouped so far – as we speak, Within 24 hours all plans will be in course, including what you have on the drive. General Mallard will stay here in New York, so he will be taking care of your group's actions.'

'What about Director Fury?' Natasha asks, studying the man's face.

'What about him?'

'He isn't here. I believe he must have left a word for us?'

'Ah, this,' Richard nods, taking an envelope out of his jacket's inside pocket. 'Yes. It is of no importance to our meeting though. Have a look at it in your own time,' he adds, sliding it across the table towards Natasha.

'Anything else, sir?' Steve prompts, noticing how Tony is playing with his hands nervously.

'I expect complete obedience from _all_ of you,' Mallard states as Richard puts the file into his suitcase. 'This is no longer a game to be played by single players, whether you like it or not, or even by your little team. It's our work _together_ with all available forces that matters –'

'Because you have no idea what's going to happen,' Tony cuts in, wrapping his hands on his chest again to keep himself from moving them continuously. 'You didn't get any new messages from the Emperor, am I right? I thought we were meeting here because you had something to tell us, not to remind each other how we don't like working together and how unruly the Avengers are. If you want us to play along, tell me: you didn't receive any message from the Emperor, right?'

'No, we didn't, you are right, Mister Stark,' Richard admits, his voice tight. 'This is exactly why we need to proceed with caution and plan our moves defensively, unless we can determine where exactly out enemy is and what he is planning.'

'There were no letters from the Emperor, then?' Steve wonders aloud and Tony can almost see his brain working inside his head.

'The letters stopped after the message with the deadline. No one has heard from the man ever since. No one in Europe, in Asia, anywhere.'

'Curious –'

'You don't seem to be taking this seriously, Mister Stark,' General McKee speaks up for the first time, an then chuckles, making Tony twitch.

He doesn't have patience for this today.

'I take this far more seriously than you can imagine,' Tony snaps and sands up abruptly. 'And therefore I don't have time for this gibberish, you don't have anything to tell us equals this meeting is pointless now, I've got real problems to take care of if you want your army supplies in time, Stark International doesn't run itself, especially R&D – we'll be going now, right, Captain?'

'Okay, Tony – I don't believe there is still anything of importance we need to discuss?'

'We'll call you,' Mallard says, standing up, too, and everyone follows the suit.

No one says anything when they walk back to the car or during the ride. When Tony steps out of the elevator, Bruce grabs his hand and doesn't let him go; everyone knows that Tony would like to go hide in his workshop.

'Will you manage to eat something?' Bruce asks quietly as everyone else goes to the kitchen. Tony takes a moment to think.

'Yeah, maybe,' he says in the end and smiles weakly at Bruce's concerned face.

The dinner is ready quickly and Tony stays for a few minutes, picking at his food more than eating it, and then excuses himself after grabbing a bottle of orange juice. Pepper doesn't come up, he meets her in the workshop where she's doing something on her laptop; she closes it as soon as he steps in though. He sits on a sofa without a word, she comes a few moments later and cuddles herself to Tony and they stay like that for a long, long time in a complete silence. The room is on one of the higher floors so they don' hear any commotion that might be happening down in the streets.

At some Tony must've fallen asleep because when he opens his eyes the next time, after what feels like a blink, the sky outside is dark. He's alone on the sofa, but it's easy to hear two voices whispering in the far corner of the 'shop.

'Hey,' he says, but it comes out weak and raspy and makes Tony wonder if he was screaming during his sleep. JARVIS would tell him normally what's been happening if he noticed Tony's discomfort, but –

– okay, so maybe he was shouting. Or crying. Or both.

Pepper has seen all of that before, but Steve – Tony recognizes the voice of the ever-present good soul – he hasn't. He wouldn't think any less of Tony, of course, but that doesn't mean it Tony would like that.

'You're awake,' Pepper says pointlessly when she notices him sitting up on the sofa. 'You feeling okay?'

'Yeah, peachy,' Tony replies, cracking his spine with delight. 'Time?'

'Seven thirty,' Steve says and it takes Tony a second to process that there will be no other voice supplying him with a number down to seconds. He swallows.

'What are you conspiring about now, hmm?' he asks, putting on his shoes – must've been Pepper to take them off. 'Anything I need to know? Cable is still working, right? The news will be pretty old, but since that'll have to do for now –'

'No, nothing exceptional has happened,' Pepper assures him. 'At least not according to the news we can get. Everyone just keeps being confused, but that's expected, we have the rest of the day off in all our facilities, everything is still supposed to resume working tomorrow at 8 a.m., just like we decided before.'

'What is it, then? There must be something. I can see your crestfallen faces – okay, maybe don't tell me. It was the envelope, right?'

'No, actually no, Tony,' Steve says calmly and Tony can tell straight away that he is not lying. 'You can see the message later, Natasha has it, but it was just a note about Fury's actions from now and how he's not going to stay in New York because he's needed elsewhere. Nothing has happened, really, we were just talking –'

'Steve was telling me what the war was like for people back then, you know,' Pepper interrupts, her voice suddenly soft. 'It's always been far away, the fighting, world wars, ir was just our soldiers on other continents fighting, but never _here_. We haven't really had anything like this happening, ever – and everyone is just afraid. We keep getting calls from people asking if we're okay. I called my mum,' she adds, knowing he'll understand. Pepper never talks to her family, but under these circumstances, even she would call them to tell them she is safe.

'Okay, whatever,' Tony shrugs; everyone _he_ cares about is in the building, barring Rhodey, but Tony is least worries about Rhodey who has the War Machine and all the defense system of the White House between him and the rest of the world. 'Do we need to talk Stark Industries or are we game?'

'We're okay, Tony –'

'Good, great, I'll go back to work then, our systems inside the tower are working perfectly – so guys,' he calls louder, turning around to give the bots a suggesting look, 'we need to be moving. There are things to be done.'

'Will you be okay here?' Steve asks, looking around, and the words _by yourself_ are thick in the air.

'Yeah, sure, me and the boys need some tunes and all that to work,' Tony offers and rolls his sleeves up, ignoring Pepper's stare. He can't be bothered to change into more casual clothes. 'I know you'll be up there if I need ya, all the jazz, thanks, bye,' he adds and sits down by his desk, listening to their steps as they leave.

_Turn on the computers manually, how peculiar_, he thinks, blinking away the tingling in his eyes.

'Daddy's home,' he adds quietly, knowing that the bots will hear him and that they will understand.

* * *

For the next two weeks everything is chaos – and that's enough said.

There are fights in streets and protests in front of the government buildings, since everyone thinks it's their fault. Telling the world that it was the madman that caused a war who disconnected the whole world from the information it's been feeding on, well, it would be even a worse choice. There is, of course, a possibility that the Emperor will announce that anyway, but he hasn't tied so far and gave no indication of planning to do that in the nearest future.

He gave no indication at all, to be honest, regarding anything.

Mallard calls the team several times, telling them to calm a crowd here and there and it works each time; just seeing Iron Man in the sky is enough reassurance apparently. That is the kind of attention Tony is completely okay with.

He can't really sleep at night, though – if he doesn't take some pills he keeps waking up every half an hour, expecting a certain person to speak up and calm him down, but it doesn't happen, it can't happen, it won't happen – and the medicine is _not_ the kind that can be just taken all the time, so in the end Tony gets most of his sleep during the day, in somebody's lap or on somebody's shoulder. Sometimes it's Pepper, most of the time it's Steve or Bruce who are, of course, the most concerned ones, but everyone gets their share of comforting him at least a few times.

Tony still feels so empty, though, without his better half, and so incredibly hollow inside even when he flies over gigantic frenetic crowds, pulsating with emotions. He can't really hear them and he can't bother to think about them.

The suit's operating system doesn't _talk back_, it just recognizes voice commands. Tony's alone inside the Iron Man costume and sometimes it feels nothing but scary.

* * *

'There was a delivery earlier when you were in the 'shop,' Clint tells Tony when he's eating a late breakfast a few days later. Clint is getting some food, too, but since he keeps a bit more humanly hours it's probably a lunch for him already. 'I had the letter checked. It's safe.'

'What does it say?'

'I don't know, didn't look, says it's from Texas, has SI logo on the envelope. There are a few SI facilities there, right?'

'Yeah, 'bout seven,' Tony replies absentmindedly, examining the envelope in his hands. He'd say he never gets _paper_ letters, but since times have changed and not everyone has the phone number to Stark Tower, not like it's in Yellow Pages, the most efficient method of communication _is_ snail mail. A few good decades back in time.

Well, that and telegraph, but there are not enough of the machines and people who know how to use them to actually make things work efficiently.

Clint nods at him and leaved with his plate full just as Tony wipes his hands to open the envelope.

The contents of a letter are mundane, it's made to look like a regular report, but it doesn't take Tony long to realize that there is a message hidden in the letter – or not so hidden, it's pretty obvious if you know what to look for. First letters of each line make a word, that's a classic. Going from the bottom to the top, no problem.

Only someone with Tony's memory can recognize a name that they haven't heard for at least fifteen years, but he recognizes it immediately: _Hansen._ Maya Hansen.

The P.S. says the man who supposedly wrote the letter would like Tony to come over to make a few decisions, which translates into _meet me there_. The sender's P.O. box number, Tony realizes, is not the real one – it's a date. In two days.

Ah.

'Pepper!' Tony shouts loudly, knowing that she is somewhere in the penthouse. He can hear her footsteps a moment later.

'What, Tony? I'm doing something –'

'I'm going to Texas. Tomorrow.'

'Tony, are you serious? We need you here –'

'This,' Tony waves the envelope in front of Pepper's face, 'is a message. There's someone I need to meet. She might be able to help us somehow, though obviously she couldn't say in a _letter_ that anyone could potentially intercept, _how_. So. I need to go – no one else from the team can go with me. I'll take my goon squad.'

'You sure it's not a trap?' she asks, concern obvious on her face. Smart.

'There are about two people who know there is some connection between her and me – Rhodey and Happy. I mean, other than a connection of a passing hello and drinking illegal booze in the same room back in MIT.'

'I get it,' Pepper says quietly. 'I'll have everything arranged as SI, that's okay – talk to the team.'

'I will,' Tony assures her.

Steve, of course, says no. Tony rolls his eyes. Steve still says no and Tony starts to get annoyed because they both know he _will_ go to Texas whether Steve says it's okay or not, Tony bothers to ask only because it's just a matter of pretending to be a good team player.

'I don't know what Maya is playing at, but she's one of the cleverest people I know,' Tony tells Cap, sitting on the kitchen counter as Steve cooks pasta for the dinner. 'She was mostly into biotechnology, but she was clever enough to learn a bit of this and that to put it together one or another brilliant project – and that was like, seventeen years ago? When I last heard of her? So, her name didn't come up for seventeen years and _that_ can only mean one thing.'

'Oh yes?' Steve sounds skeptical, but Tony ignores that.

'That she's been working on something _big_ ever since, duh,' Tony rolls his eyes and jumps off the counter, checking his watch. 'So, I'll go and pack. Dinner in fifteen?'

'Yes, Tony,' Steve says with a resigned sigh, the same way he does pretty often and it always leaves Tony feel like a little kid. It's not bad, really, Tony thinks it's pretty fun sometimes, just… strange.

The rest of the team isn't any less reluctant, but they are a bit less stubborn and a bit more realistic and Tony gets their blessing over the pasta.

* * *

He's in Texas in the afternoon the next day. According to the letter, the meeting is supposed to take place at noon the next day, so Tony just enjoys the little bit of peace and quiet away from New York and the masses of people who are constantly in the streets. There are so many people whose work depends on what the Emperor has taken, who are now unemployed and angry and used to having things their way – a SI facility on the outskirts of a small town in Texas is like a different world. The social structure here is completely different and people are not as affected as they're in other parts of the country, especially that there's nothing linking the place to tech or science. Even the SI factory produces mundane plastic elements that can't be a threat, even in the eyes of the Emperor.

There's a hotel in the town so Tony rents a room under a fake name, for one night, and somehow no one recognizes him – or if they do, no one mentions anything. Maybe it's just too hard to imagine, Tony Stark visiting such a boring place.

Tony doesn't sleep all night, but that's no surprise at all. He spends the dark hours doodling random projects for the future on his tablet and trying not to cry every time he speaks up and no one answers.

* * *

At noon Tony's sitting on a bench in front of the factory's main entrance, a place that anyone can access, to make it easier for both of them to come and go unnoticed. The sun is shining strongly, its rays almost burning his skin, bringing back all the unpleasant memories of Afghanistan, but he manages to ignore that just fine. There are worse things he needs to be concerned with.

A woman walks up to him, medium pace, air of self-confidence around her, and Tony recognizes her immediately: the same brown hair, the same eyes, the slim figure…

'You age well,' he says, acting exactly like the dick he used to be back in college. Maya smirks – she's always had a sense of humor, even though she could be rather aggressive at time. Mental instability comes with brilliance, Tony knows, so he's always waved it off.

'You've got grey hair in your goatee,' she replies, sitting down next to him. 'I'm glad you got my message.'

'No one sends me written reports, not even in this situation,' Tony says, crossing his legs and observing her closely. Maya's face doesn't reveal anything. 'So? Why did you want me here? It was a pretty nasty thing to set up, come here all the way from Texas under those circumstances and not in the suit, you know, so that people wouldn't follow me – that's my security team,' he adds, noticing that she's glancing at a car in the back in which three men in dark suits are sitting. 'No one would let me out of home without them, apparently. But you know what I mean – by the way, don't you have someone with you? I mean, you're such a bright and progressive mind, you're a perfect match for Emperor's victim –'

'That's what I wanted to talk about,' she cuts in firmly. 'You don't know what I've been doing for the last fifteen years, right? You'd ask me about that straight away if you knew. Too interesting to wait.'

'So, what are you working on?' Tony asks, standing up.

'Do you trust me?'

'Not at all,' he replies with a dashing smile. Maya runs a hand through her hair.

'Good – I need you to come with me. I need to show you something because you won't believe me if you don't see it with your own eyes, I know you, and this sounds like a sci-fi tale more than reality.'

'I've taken part in those, yes,' Tony nods, standing up. 'I'd say not much can surprise me after housing Thor for two years and seeing him travel between realms several times, I'm sure you've heard – but I'm inclined to believe you indeed. Where to?' he asks, offering her a hand.

'My lab.'

'Nearby?'

'Half an hour drive. My car. Your boys can follow, if you _swear_ they won't talk.'

'_Please_,' Tony just replies, sounding wounded. He would be mad not to trust his security team – JARVIS picked them out. Tony trusts – trusted him completely.

'Get in the car then,' Maya tells him, opening the passenger's door of a dark blue Volvo. Tony given his boys a sign before entering and they pull off a moment later. Neither of them speaks throughout the ride.

Maya's lab turns out to be in a small facility a few miles out of another small town in the middle of nowhere – convenient – and seemingly abandoned.

'It's been just the three of us, me and two assistants, recently, for the last few weeks – we had a few other people working with us, but they said they preferred to stay with their families,' she answers Tony's questioning look when he sees the place. 'And Aldrich –'

'Aldrich?'

'He's my lab partner. He… died, a few months back. Accident.'

'Uhm,' Tony murmurs, trying to take in as much details of the surroundings as possible; it doesn't seem like anything much – only that Tony can tell there is much more to it than it looks like. A whole underground labyrinth, maybe, from the look of it.

'We weren't supposed to show this to anyone for some time yet,' she continues, getting out of the car. Tony gestures at his men to stay in the Audi – maybe it's a stupid decision, but he has a gut feeling that he can trust Maya, and he it's not like he can't defend himself. 'But in this situation – I've been thinking about it ever since the first power blackout, but especially since the satellite connections went haywire – things got pretty serious. Very serious, I'd wager, much more dangerous that the government can let the public know, and while I'm not privy to those secrets, I can deduce my answers. We're at disadvantage and the man who _singlehandedly_ starts a global conflict by pushing the right buttons has access to an unlimited source of information that we've lost – that doesn't sound good. I'd say it sound pretty awful,' she stops for a moment, opening the door before Tony and gesturing at him to enter the building. The lights are on immediately; a movement detector, no doubt.

'And you know I know more because we're playing for the home team now, right?'

'I can deduce easily that it wasn't the government who cut off the feed,' she talks, leading him down the stairs into the basement level, much bigger than it looks from the outside, just like Tony guessed. 'Anyone with enough brains can figure out that if the Emperor steers the crowds the right way, we – scientists, inventors – are going to be extinct pretty soon because everyone loves the comforts if 21st century – but they all prefer their lives.'

'Well, there is a certain wisdom to it,' Tony comments, looking around and mentally cataloguing every detail he can notice, for further reference.

'This man needs to be stopped and it's very unlikely that he'll be stopped with what resources we have now at disposal.'

'Agreed.'

'So, now I'm going to show you something, okay?' she says as they enter a big room, filled with gigantic screens. 'I'll show you a simulation of what we can make human body do – it's completely accurate. I've been working on this for years.'

'Did you replicate –'

'The serum? No,' she stops for a moment and shakes her head. Not even a drop of sweat on her temples. 'No, it's – ours. Was ours, mine and Aldrich's, but now it's my secret and mine only to keep and I am willing to share it with you.'

'I'm listening,' Tony prompts impatiently, crossing his arms. This… doesn't sound safe. At all. Whatever it is.

'It's – it's technically a virus,' she explains quietly, switching the feed on the screens to what looks like DNA structures and various organisms' schematics. 'We called it Extremis. It rewrites the entire DNA code of the injected person –'

'Impossible.'

'I _know_ it sounds impossible, but think about what I've just shown you and believe me, I can do more – you need to listen to me,' she says, stopping for good finally a few minutes later. 'I know all I can offer you right now is this numbers and pictures and a few test results that we conducted on animals – they died, Extremis is not designes for animals, but I can show you the cellular changes – there's so much more to it,' she adds; it's solemn but her eyes are shining. 'I've got a way of doing this to people.'

'This?'

'I'll give you detailed data if you wish. That's easy – we tested Extremis in all possible ways, It's makes the cells impeccable, makes them _perfect, _that'swhat_ Extremis _does_._ It rewrites the genetic code to make the body better than it could ever be and while we don't know exactly how it'll work on the mind, we can speculate –'

'So it'd give a body what, speed, strength, pretty face, and make your brain work faster?' Tony inquires, sitting on a chair he pulled from one of the desks.

'Yes – it's extremely dangerous, you understand. _Extremely_. In wrong hands – I don't even want to think about that,' she says, shaking her head. 'We've managed to keep the research safe from anyone who could potentially use it in a wrong way, it has never left the walls of this lab, but this might be the time to use it.'

'_Use_ it?'

'It can be a weapon, yes,' Maya admits, standing a few steps from Tony and observing him closely. 'For the good boys or for the bad boys. You know which one I'll prefer –'

'So, Aldrich wanted to tell it to the bad buys?' Tony asks, raising an eyebrow. Maya's face darkens.

'Oh god, no,' Maya breathes, closing her eyes for a moment. 'He was – jealous, I guess would be the word. Bitter. There is one thing I didn't tell you yet, you can't use the serum on everyone. Only about 2,5% of the population has the genetic ability to live through the whole process, and it turned out Aldrich wasn't one of them.'

'He insisted on trying it anyway,' Tony guesses, because there can't be another end to this story. Maya's face tells him enough.

'He did, it didn't kill him… instantly,' she explains, sitting on one of the desks, playing with her hands nervously. 'It took a few hours. He made me run tests. Extremis worked perfectly for that few hours, until something happened – like organ rejection, his cells just couldn't take the virus changing them and attacked it. He – he died quickly, then –'

'When was it?' Tony asks, keeping his voice as soft and neutral as possible. If it's been only the two of them working on Extremis, than Maya had to deal with everything by herself and it makes Tony feels lightly sick.

'A month before the war broke out,' she replies quietly her hands are shaking slightly, so she puts them into the pockets of her jeans. 'When the whole world found out what the Emperor wanted, I sent everyone away. There were only three small teams here, it's extremely secret, this place. They never told their families what they were really doing, the other scientists, they couldn't. So they are safe – and I'm here, supervising. Taking care, watching over this place.'

'How is it funded, anyway? You've got lots of fancy toys here,' Tony says, pointing at the hi-tech equipment around.'

'The facility was founded by people who wanted fancy things done for them – that's what the other teams did. The paid _a lot_. And the Extremis, well, me and Aldrich, we had money. We both did lots of things besides that one project, and some of them were… extremely lucrative.'

'You mean illegal.'

'Are you going to tell the police about it?' Maya laughs drily, jumping off the desk. 'We didn't make any weapons, if you're wondering. It was mostly very wealthy people – and mostly dying, willing to pay everything for a few months of life. We helped them. They paid. We had money for research. End of the story.'

Tony gets up from the chair and walks around the room slowly, looking at the information displayed on the screens; he's now a biologist but he knows enough to understand that what is in front of his eyes is research that will literally change the world.

'So, this is all amazing, but I'm still waiting for an explanation why you had to tell all this to _me_ and _now_,' he states, turning around to face Maya.

'I haven't told you the most important thing yet,' she confesses, gesturing at him to follow her into another, smaller room. 'Extremis enhances _everything_ to previously unreachable levels, inhuman even, some people would say, we believed that – I believe that it would enable a brain to process information at light speed and pick up signals that are out of our reach now.'

'I think I get what you're trying to tell me,' Tony says slowly, a thousand scenarios already playing in his mind. That would be – that would be everything they need. 'Is that for sure?'

'As sure as it gets – I have a copy of our studies for you,' she adds, walking up to a bookshelf and taking a thick folder from between some books. 'It's one of the most important things we worked on with Extremis and everything we've been able to confirm so far worked, so it's pretty safe to assume this will work, too.'

'And you get a supercomputer for a brain.'

'And you get exactly that, yes,' Maya nods, handing Tony the folder. He takes it, trying not to grimace, but he doesn't feel like explaining his _peeve_ to Maya right now.

'You still didn't answer my question, though,' Tony reminds Maya, following her out of the room – she's heading up to the surface level, towards the exit. She stops abruptly and Tony almost bumps into her.

'I had a sample of you DNA back from out college times and I let myself run the tests – you're a match. Genetically, for the Extremis. The 2,5%. And I think that if there is anyone who can do a lot with what the virus does, it's you. Think about it.'

'Ah.'

'I wanted you to know in case – in case things go badly.'

'Okay –'

'I'll be here all the time, I can't leave this place unsupervised, if you ever…'

'If I ever decide.'

'Yes. Everything you might want to know is in the folder,' she says, glancing at the thing that Tony is holding.

'Thanks for showing me,' Tony tells her as they're walking towards the main door. 'Keep safe,' he adds and kisses her on the cheek, just like he used to in his more playboy times. Maya smiles.

'You too, _Iron Man_,' she waves his as he walks back to his car.

'To the airport – we're going back, drive fast,' he tells the man who's driving, closing his eyes. He might as well try to get some rest, since there'll be lots of work waiting for him at home, and even more thinking.

He isn't even sure he should tell the team about what the trip was all about. They'd say no, they'd forbid him from even considering the Extremis, but Tony can't be so sure.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm taking bits and pieces for the comic here, putting it together the way that fits into the story, so please forgive me if you're an avid comic book fan^^

Thanks for your support so far! I hope you liked this chapter, I'd love to know what you think & I'll be most thankful for even a shortest comment. I start my exams this week and hearing from you always puts me in positive mood :) Wish me luck!


	4. 4

**4**

Tony doesn't tell the team.

He plans on reading all the research and figures he might tell them later, if he feels like he needs to share, but not now. He would confide in JARVIS if – he would. _But_.

So he spends all the way back to New York trying to figure out a convincing lie. It proves to be quite challenging because there aren't many explanations that would sound plausible and that wouldn't provoke unending questions – explaining at the same time the secrecy and Maya's life story of disappearing for years.

'Maya wanted to tell me about a biological weapons they've been working on,' Tony tells the team in the end, when they are sitting together in the evening, watching international news via cable and eating random foods instead of a proper dinner for once. 'I told her to keep it safe and out of the way of _everyone_, we are not going to release another Ebola or something, there's enough mess with what we already have to deal with.'

'That's all?' Steve asks, sounding remotely disappointed. Apparently biological weapons are something he doesn't even consider special, who knew.

'Pretty neat I must admit,' Tony says around a spoonful of rice, congratulating himself internally on coming up with a story that is mostly true – not in detail, but the general idea pretty much describes the real deal.

And as far as Tony can tell, he won't be using Extremis and that makes his words the truth, not a lie.

'So, what have you guys been doing when I was away?' he asks, glancing at everyone around. They all seem pretty tired.

'We were sent to a couple of public meetings, of all things. You know, heroes helping with the morale and stuff,' Clint replies with his mouth full of cereal. Some time ago Tony would've been surprised that someone eats ever weirder things than him, but now everyone is used to Clint's quirks. He keeps saying that they come from his circus times and Tony takes his word for that. 'It was terrible. I mean, we did great of course, but everyone is so fucking scared and confused and the government doesn't do nearly as much as it should to calm those people down, we're not enough.'

'The problem is of course that the conflict is with someone from the outside, but the _enemies_ are everywhere – might be everywhere,' Natasha adds, eyes fixed on the screen where a news presenter is saying something about a series of shooting in Japan, but there was no alien tech involved this time, just people killing people, it seems.

'We're supposed to go to a meeting the NYPD tomorrow,' Clint adds, licking the sugary crumbs of Cheerios his fingers. 'Do pep talk and stuff. Non-negotiable. Mallard insisted you come since we told him you went away for SI business for a few days.'

'I have SI business _now _–'

'It's just two hours, Tony. Pepper will understand,' Bruce cuts in, his voice calm. 'Two hours isn't that long.'

'I don't know if they'll enjoy my charming personality –'

'_Tony_,' Bruce sighs, rolling his eyes.

'You know I'll come and play a good boy,' Tony replies. 'I always do, so please let me at least complain a bit, it makes me feel better.'

'It makes everyone else feel annoyed,' Clint says. Tony makes a face at the archer and gets up.

'Well, if you don't wanna my company, I'll just go to the 'shop now. I'm a bit behind now with the projects for this week, thanks to the short vacation. I won't see you anytime soon, so bye,' he adds and disappears in the elevator, his plate half-full of risotto in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

It's pathetic how much he hopes JARVIS will speak to him each time he enters the workshop, and how he can feel his eyes getting wet every time it's only silence to greet him.

* * *

They do go to the NYDP and talk to the policeman for almost two hours, replying to questions – as if they were really experts that they are not – and giving advice. Tony makes a point of behaving responsibly and limiting his jokes to only a few, acting exactly as grown-up the situation calls for. Steve seems very proud of him.

It's easier for him to just laugh things off, but he knows that most people would consider the way he behaves inappropriate. As soon as Tony gets back to his workshop, the telephone rings – his personal one that a very few people know the number for, so he picks it up, hoping to finally hear Rhodey's voice.

'Hello, Tony,' someone says and a shiver runs down Tony's spine as he recognizes the soft dangerous tone.

'What the fuck do you want now?' he asks, not bothering to be anyhow polite. He's not in the mood for games at all – and he had a feeling that the one they're already playing is only going to accelerate.

'How unkind of you,' the man chuckles with amusement. Tony fights the urge to throw the phone across the room, but he knows the man is not going to give up if he wants to give Tony a message.

'Okay, _Steven_,' Tony says after taking a deep breath and sitting down in his armchair. 'What can I help you with this time?'

'This I like much more,' the Emperor's voice sounds genuinely happy. It's so creepy how he seems to be – a nice person. Probably looks nice, too, and only when he speaks his mind you can figure out what a fucked up individual he is. 'I wanted to congratulate you on your pep talk. It was very motivating indeed.'

'You were listening,' Tony states; somehow he's not that surprised.

'I have an access to all public places via webs of interactive devices you people placed everywhere. They are most useful, I must admit.'

'And yet you don't want anything like that to exist on the Earth –'

'I don't. It's only a means of getting where I want to get. I will not shy away from using technology to achieve my goals, and then you'll be very eager to get rid of it all yourselves. And I will just sit back and observe.'

'So you're gonna rule the world?' Tony asks, because he hasn't gotten a straightforward answer to that question yet; the man choosing the name _Emperor_ for himself doesn't have to mean ruling the world automatically.

'Oh no,' the man laughs, confirming Tony's thoughts. 'I'm not some kind of a tyrant. I'm here to show you misguided people what you should do to preserve your species and when you understand that, you shall be allowed to govern yourselves –'

'You are mad, aren't you?' Tony cuts in, because he's heard that part already. And he's read it in the letters the Emperor sent to the President.

'Tony, Tony, Tony – you _are_ clever enough to understand me, don't pretend you're not. I know you have the capacity to understand that the world can't continue like this because it's going to end in a disaster.'

'What disaster, exactly? You keep saying that word, you keep saying preserving human species, so would you mind sharing what was so traumatizing that happened to you in your future that made you come back and butt in?'

'No, I don't exactly want to talk about it,' the man says firmly, his voice gaining an angry undertone for a moment.

'Did you lose your girl? Or your boy? Or someone else? It must have been a bit thing, to make you so desperate – and, by the way, what's the deal with your name?' Tony adds quickly, asking the question that was unanswered the previous time .

'I hope you realize I have no intention and no obligation to answer your questions, Tony. I told you all you have to know.'

'So, you really find people that dumb to believe in your preaching about technology being the end of the world?'

'There are many people who were thinking that before I came here,' the Emperor explains, talking as if Tony was a five-year-old. 'And I said already that _you_ make things worse – you have a lot of enemies, Tony.'

'Please don't tell me Justin Hammer is working for you,' Tony says quickly, feeling panic steadily filing his body, as he says the calmest words to match the man's tone. The Emperor laughs.

'I'm not dumb,' he says in the end. 'Well, I could chat with you for a long time – you are quite amusing, Tony, more amusing than I've expected – but I just called to congratulate you and your team on your good job. Have you told them we've talked yet?'

'It doesn't –'

'I thought so,' the man states. 'You did very well, so now we can bring things to the next level. I can't wait to see you coming up with new ideas.'

'New level means?'

'Ah. That would be too easy if I gave you a hint. I hope you'll have fun,' the Emperor says and hangs up. Tony stares at the receiver in his hand as if it was an alien object.

So, the madman has an idea for a _new level_ and they have already been at disadvantage. There are no words to express how Tony hates that man.

* * *

The next day Tony goes to a board meeting at SI with Pepper and he even pays attention to what is being said. They old men keep insisting they want weapons. Tony keeps telling them that no, there won't be any weapons. SI is going to keep focused on producing the defense items because they actually work and help people without adding more death to the confusion.

The thing is: Tony doesn't mind creating weapons for himself or his teammates because he trusts them to use the gadgets wisely. He can't trust whoever would get his guns, if they were mass-produced, because not everyone has the soul of a superhero with superhero moral compass inside. And that's not to mention all the other possible issues.

Pepper is supporting Tony firmly on this, repeating, like the team, that Tony is making the right decision.

Tony goes back to the tower, leaving Pepper in her office, with Happy and her security team nearby. As soon as he manages to get to the penthouse, he understands that something is happening: the team is suiting up in the living room, exchanging quick hushed voices.

'What's going on?' he asks, taking in the mess in the room.

'We were training – and Bruce was making lunch – when we got a call from Mallard telling us to get to Queens ASAP. There was a shooting and a few people died, they don't know how many yet, and something is still going on there.'

'When did he call?' Tony asks, already making his way toward the workshop where his suits are.

'Maybe five minutes go.'

'We're taking the Quinjet,' Clint adds, checking his quiver for the last time.

'I'll follow you,' Tony says before disappearing inside the elevator.

It takes him three minutes to fly out of the 'shop and follow the Quinjet to Queens. He can see from the air what is going on: it looks like there is a group of a few dozen Emperor's goons randomly shooting at _normal _people – who are taking cover but don't run away and try to fight back as much as possible. No police at the scene, just people versus people – and it's a very unmatched fight.

Tony is the first one down on the ground level, firing from his gauntlet repulsors straight away, bringing down a few unprepared men, the rest of them hides behind a few cars that are on fire in the middle of the road. Tony orders the civilians who've been fighting to go, eyes on the cars.

'You did a great job,' he says loudly, observing the suit sensors telling him that the rest of his team is approaching, 'We'll take it from here. Get somewhere safe,' he adds and fires again, as soon as he seen one of the Emperor's men peeking from behind a car; the man falls to the ground immediately.

Tony _hates_ killing people, but he's not going to stop himself from doing that as long as other people's lives are at stake.

He can hear people running and shouting behind him while he acts a bit like a live wall, guarding the wide street.

The team is there in a moment and when they are all together, it's a matter of minutes before all of the enemies are incapacitated – a few of them killed. Nine, to be exact, and seven others that were killed by the people they attacked before the Avengers arrived.

Seventeen civilians are dead, too, and it makes Tony feel sick.

* * *

'The Avengers saved the day once again, preventing the Emperor's soldiers from killing more people and creating more destruction – given their numbers, the death toll could have been much higher. We need to learn the bravery from our heroes and confront out enemies –'

'Shut the hell up,' Tony murmurs, switching the TV off.

That's what happens when people try to be heroic: they die.

Tony wishes no one would try to follows the Avengers' example and fight, he wishes they'd all just run and hide and let others fight. It's impossible because the six of them, and even the police, can't be everywhere at once.

Tony still _hates_ the war-talk encouraging people to give their lives away.

* * *

The Emperor's people seem to lay low for the next few days. There aren't any fights in the streets, maybe a random shooting or two but it's very little compared to what's been going on before.

Mallard calls, telling the team up that they did a good job. Steve, who picked up, tells them the general sounded less angry than normally and Tony wonders if it's supposed to mean something. There isn't a meeting though, since the general is taking part in an intensive training for new soldiers with former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, trying to teach the young people within a month what the agents have been learning for years.

Since the team has no activities scheduled, they take their time to train, do some old boring team bonding and rest as much as possible.

It feels surreal, eating homemade burgers and salad and jell-o for dessert while watching movies. It feels surreal knowing that there's a war going on somewhere, even if it's a calm day, that amidst the tension of the global conflict there is place for something as mundane as food and sleep, as mundane as spending a calm afternoon with friends.

* * *

'Tony, where are you?' Pepper's voice asks, slightly distorted by the telephone, a few days later.

'Workshop. Finishing the installations for repulsors in the new Mark, why?'

'Turn on the TV, or better yet, the radio. Please,' she adds, and even Tony, who can be really terrible when it comes to reading people knows that she's distressed – that's not enough. She sounds as if she was on the verge of breaking.

Tony takes a deep breath and walks up to the radio on his stiff legs.

'I'm safe,' she adds more softly. 'I have to stay here, but I'll come as soon as possible. Call me later – I won't hold the line.'

She hangs up before Tony can respond, and second later he turns on the radio to hear this:

'_… a series of bombings all across the country – and a few abroad, too – firefighters and police are at the scenes, we're being assured, but the number of dead is not yet estimated, we only know that we can expect the numbers to reach hundreds –_'

It feels as if Tony's heart stopped for a moment, and then it starts beating fast and furiously; he turns off the radio and runs out of the workshop. It takes him two minutes to get to the penthouse where he expects to meet everyone.

They are all there, except for Thor.

'New Mexico. He went to fetch Jane and bring her here, period,' Clint supplies, noting Tony's questioning look. They are all staring at the TV screen, divided in four smaller parts and showing four different places at once.

'What's happened? Pepper's called and told me to turn on the radio – they said something about hundreds of dead –'

'Seven bombings in the USA, four more abroad that we know of,' Natasha supplies, keeping her voice in check.

'They were all research facilities, Tony. All the dead people are scientists, interns, students, staff,' Bruce adds, watching Tony closely. Tony takes deep breaths, trying _not_ to repeat the Emperor's words in his head, trying _not_ to hear the _new level_ said in that soft nice voice again and again. It's not working, because how the hell can they even dream about coming up with something to match the Emperor now?

They stay in the room for some time, saying nothing, just listening to the voices in the TV reporting more and more information. No one mentions dinner, not even Steve.

In fact, Steve seems to be most shocked from all of them, despite having taken part in a war. He's probably remembering everything vividly – but he's not going to share, Tony knows. He and Cap are similar in this, they don't share.

* * *

Mallard calls a few hours later and tells them a lot of details that weren't disclosed to the public, and some that will be shared with the world later.

Two hundred ninety three people dead in the USA. One hundred thirteen in the other attacks outside of the country. A few missing people that might be found underneath the rubble but no one knows for sure.

'The President wants to meet with you, Stark,' the general says, having asked Steve to talk with Tony himself. 'Tomorrow evening. You'll come with me.'

'Do I have a say in that?' Tony sighs, knowing the answer already. Mallard's response is silence. 'Okay. Where and when?'

'Tomorrow in front of the usual place, 1300 hrs. We'll drive.'

'All right,' Tony manages to say before the man hangs up. 'I need to go to the President again with them, tomorrow,' Tony tells the team before disappearing in the workshop. He doesn't plan to get any sleep.

* * *

At 0600 hrs Tony can't ignore the hunger in his gut, it's distracting him from work too much, so he goes to the penthouse to get himself something to eat. It's been twenty hours since he last ate and he'd really like something filling right now.

Of course Steve is there, in his workout clothes, drinking a smoothie.

'Hey, Cap,' Tony greets the man, his bare feet making funny sounds on the marble floor. 'You up long?'

'Since four – did you get any sleep? You look awful.'

'Always the charmer,' Tony laughs, peeking inside the fridge. Scrambled eggs with something extra inside sound good, so he starts to take out the ingredients on the counter, feeling Steve's stare on his back. 'I need to finish assembling the newest suit,' he says, as if trying to explain himself. Steve only hums in response.

'Mind if I turn the radio on? Maybe they'll say something –'

'Yeah, sure, Capsicle,' Tony says, taking out a pan. He's learned some cooking since the team moved in. It felt strange, alternating between green watery shakes and fancy order-in food while the others would make real food for themselves. Pepper seemed really happy the first time she saw Tony making himself something humans should eat.

'_There has been another incident at night that we have been just recently informed of,_' the speaks says, and Tony freezes, waiting for the rest. '_It was believed that the Emperor, residing in Greenland, has limited technical possibilities and that belief made the government and NASA sure that the ISS is off limits. Unfortunately we were proven wrong –_'

'What?' Tony asks, suddenly forgetting the eggs and the pan, taking a few steps to get closer to the radio almost unconsciously.

'– _it seems that there was an explosion, we cannot be sure given the lack of the communication with the station, but a strange light was observed at night in the spot where the ISS should have been. The astronauts are presumed dead –_'

That's the last thing Tony hears before he's overwhelmed by a sudden memory of the blackness and the moment he was sure he'll die, floating somewhere in the outer space; he can imagine perfectly the astronauts' dead bodies floating around the earth, amidst the blackness, with no possibility of reaching them, and he suddenly can't breathe, the bomb hitting the Chitauri ship flashes in front of his eyes and _God_, he can't breathe – it's hasn't happened in months, he's been fine, he's been okay – he slumps down, feeling the cold marble under his body through the thin clothing –

'Tony?' he hears Steve's voice, as if from far away.

'Steve, I – I can't – I don't –'

'Calm down, Tony,' the voice says, now much closer. 'Can I touch you?'

'Yeah, I –'

'Hey, calm down. Breathe. Don't talk,' Steve commands, his voice steady, putting a hand on Tony's shoulder. 'It's okay. Right? We're just having breakfast. It's okay. You're in your kitchen.'

'… right,' Tony mumbles, trying to follow Steve's orders. It's hard, the images don't want to leave his head but – but Steve's right, he's _here_, those people died and it's terrible and scary but he is here, not in the void. Here.

'Good, great, keep going on like this, Tony. You're doing good,' Steve keeps talking, not moving away an inch. It takes a few moments, but Tony's breaths eventually go back to normal and he manages to focus on something different than the black starry sky under his eyelids.

'Has this happened before?' Steve asks and Tony almost feels like panicking again, but he manages not to. It has, a few times. Not too many. A few. JARVIS knew, JARVIS and Rhodey. It passed, eventually, _months_ ago, or so Tony thought.

'… yes,' he says in the end, flinching away from Steve's touch. Steve gets it, takes his hand away and moves away. 'After the Chitauri, you know, after the whole wormhole business and nearly dying –'

'Oh,' Steve breathes, and then says, 'okay. I get it.'

Tony looks up to meet his eyes.

'Cap, I'm okay, all right? It's – the news, and, ugh. I was taken by surprise. Won't gappen again. Yeah. Thanks for… helping me out,' he adds, slowly getting up. 'So, I'll go now –'

'Won't you eat anything?' Cap calls after him, his soft words echoing in the room.

'Not hungry in the end,' Tony shouts across the room, ignoring the worry in Steve's voice.

* * *

Tony sneaks out of the tower, carefully avoiding Cap, and gets to the War Division HQ at time. Mallard shows him the car without greeting, Tony gets in, the general follows, and as soon as the doors are closed, the chauffeur drives off instantly.

Tony likes Mallard a tiny bit more by the time they reach D.C. because the three hours in car pass without a single word said.

There is the President waiting for them, accompanied by Richard; as soon as Tony and Mallard get into the room and sit down the doors are closed and Tony raises an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

'I want you to reconsider your decisions about making weapons, Mister Stark,' the President says lazily and Tony really wants to bang his head against the shiny table in front of him. 'But hear me out before you make a rushed decision.'

'All right, go on then,' Tony says, crossing his arms on his chest.

The president talks and talk and talks, Tony wonders if the man will ever stop because it's pretty pointless. None of the arguments are going to make him reconsider producing weapons. None.

'Did you drag me all the way from New York just to hear an answer you've already heard?' Tony asks when the man finally falls silent; at least Tony learned a few interesting details of the recent events that haven't been released to the media. Non that it's a big help – the Emperor seems to be a few good steps ahead all of them – but it's something.

'We received a letter,' Richard says, taking an envelope out of the suitcase in his lap. 'From the Emperor, yes. He says he hopes we like the new entertainment and that we'll come to our senses and follow his orders.'

'He won't stop killing people.'

'He will stop killing _random_ people. He'll still kill. It's not something we're willing to agree to.'

'Good,' Tony says. If the government agreed to a _planned extermination_ Tony would consider making weapons. Or just one weapon, a bomb. And drop it on the White House, he'd find a way.

'He also asked us to say hello to you,' Richard continues, twisting the paper in hands. 'Why is he so concerned about you specifically, Mister Stark?'

'Ooh, so it's about that,' Tony sighs, ignoring the tiredness creeping up on him. 'I have no answer for you other than that he's apparently figured out that if he wants to challenge smart people and the futurists of this planet, he has to come to me at some point.'

'No other reason? Are you _sure_?'

For a brief moment, under the inquisitive stares of the three men, Tony wonders if they know something more, if they know that the Emperor contacted him, if they know that Tony is antagonizing the man – but then he stops. They don't know. It _is_ private, that part of the game. More fun that way.

'I am,' he replies.

'I think that's all, Mister Stark,' the President says, standing up, and everyone follows his suit.

'By the way, is Rhodey around somewhere? I wouldn't mind seeing him –'

'Colonel Rhodes is not around at the moment. We are relocating him to Arizona tomorrow.'

'You are relocating Rhodey to Arizona,' Tony repeats, trying to get how this is supposed to make sense, but it doesn't. 'Why?'

'He is needed there. We have enough security in D.C. already,' Richard replies flatly. 'I believe we are done here,' he adds and Mallard nods at him, heading for the door.

Tony follows, ignoring the urge to ask _so that's it?_ – that could mean conversation with the general, and the man is much more bearable when he's silent.

* * *

They get back to NY late at night and Tony manages to avoid meeting anyone on his way to bedroom; he hasn't slept for a pretty long time and it feels like the bone-deep tiredness can help with not dreaming.

In the morning no one has time for Q&A time because there is a signal that some fighting is going on in Manhattan, just a few miles from Stark Tower. The team suits up and goes to help. There are more of the Emperor's soldiers than before.

Then it repeats. At least once a day there's something going on and gets more and more serious. The Emperor's people seem to be everywhere, growing in numbers quickly – and none of them hesitates when they are shooting.

Pepper closes down all the SI facilities that are not essential, including the New York HQ that mostly deals with paperwork and legal aspects of the job; it's simply too dangerous to force people to go out of their houses, especially that the Big Apple seems to be the most dangerous zone; in other areas there less attacks. It's probably some kind of the Emperor's jokes about Tony and his stuff, because he's always considered New York his place and the man seemed to know that.

There is little time left for leisure and rest now, especially for Tony; he cannot stop doing his SI work or finishing his and the team's weapons. He can't afford to skip training's either, so he tries to balance all of the activities, squeezed between actual fighting.

* * *

It's two weeks before things go south.

Natasha gets hurt during a fight. An unfortunate accident that would have never happened if they could get enough sleep and rest _and_ if they were a bit better informed; the communications really sucks at this point and they never know how many of the Emperor's people to expect, the reports are always off. This time, there were almost twice as many as they've expected.

So, they fight and Natasha gets hit by the blue gun. She falls, Clint almost panics, Phil is confused, and Tony has to figure out a pretty neat and dangerous maneuver to retrieve her from the battleground.

They win the fight, but there are dead people, and Natasha, hit in her leg and with a nasty wounds, is benched for a few weeks _at least_. If everything goes okay, she might go back to training – not actual fighting – in a month and a half.

She absolutely hates it and Tony understands that perfectly. At least Pepper staying in the tower and working from her makeshift office there helps a bit; Natasha can occupy herself with helping Pepper to pass the time.

But it means the team is a person short, and there are more and more of the enemies everywhere.

* * *

Two weeks later during another fight Tony loses control of his suit and almost crashes the ground. The system manages to reboot after a few failed attempts and he narrowly avoids becoming a human-vibranium pancake.

He doesn't know _why_. He can guess, but he can't be sure.

'This is too dangerous, Tony,' Steve says, sounding angry and anxious at the same time. 'I can't let you get into the suit when something like that might happen anytime.'

'You can't bench me,' Tony snaps, unscrewing a piece from the suit with more force than necessary. 'You don't have enough people. Besides, we don't know what caused it.'

'I think we both know –'

'I'm going to fight, Cap. Whether you approve or not,' Tony cuts it, taking off one of the arm plates to adjust wiring underneath.

'… I was afraid you'd say so, Tony. I hope you'll stay safe,' Steve says before leaving the workshop. Tony ignores the feeling of guilt for making Steve sad like that – but he can't just sit back in safety and have others fight his battles. If he doesn't risk, people will die. It's an obvious decision.

* * *

There is another series of bombings ten days later. Almost four hundred dead.

SI closes even more factories, leaving only a few of them operational, and no one is forced to work. Pepper takes care of it, Tony has millions of things to think of, but he knows that much: everyone who does come to work every morning despite the danger, to help producing items that keep people safe – safer – is a hero.

* * *

That thing with the suit happens again.

In the evening Tony's personal phone rings for half an hour before Tony loses patience and pulls the cables out of the wall.

* * *

After a month and a half Natasha does go back to training, but it's slow and painful and she hates it even more than not doing anything. Tony sacrifices a few hours of sleep every night to go down to the gym with her to repeat the PT exercises he does during the day, he handles her tea and tells her endless words in a loud voice to distract her from the pain.

At least two months before Phil will let her go back in field.

She grits her teeth and swears it'll be a month.

* * *

Two weeks later Tony is called away from a board meeting that takes place in Stark Tower.

'We've got an emergency,' Clint says and Tony nods, following the archer without asking questions.

There is a fight. Tony has hard time comprehending everything that's going on around him; he knows that they are so fucking outnumbered this time. It's never been that drastic before.

'People join in for the promise of no harm to them or their families,' Steve tells Tony when they're fighting together. There is NYPD and the S.H.I.E.L.D.-made War Division fighting with them, but it's a tough match.

Steve is only partially right, Tony realizes not much later.

At least half of the _people_ they are fighting are remote-controlled androids.

Tony can't believe this is really happening.

* * *

They win, but Tony refuses to call it a victory because too many good people are dead.

He's so bruised and sore afterwards that he can hardly walk.

* * *

Natasha is still healing, Tony rests as much as possible, trying to give his beaten body as much time off as possible – as do Phil and Clint, the two other _full_ _humans_ – while Steve, Bruce and Thor train. Bruce lets the Hulk take over and train with the other two; it works surprisingly well.

Then three things happen at within 24 hours:

Tony falls down in the suit. Really falls. Not from very high, apparently he's not supposed to die yet. It _hurts_.

One of the Stark International facilities is bombed in the next series of attacks. It's one of those that were shut down, so it seems pointless to everyone but the few people who know to read it as a warning, or another step in the game. Pepper cries _so_ much but she's more angry than anything else.

There is a fight – Tony refuses to call them battles – in New Orleans. The Avengers can't get there on time 'cause they're fighting in New York. Tony sees the shaky footage later in TV: he can tell the attackers were _all_ androids.

If only he had JARVIS, they'd take control over the androids –

If only he had access to all his programs –

If only he could fucking _hack_ the systems –

– then he remembers something, something Maya said a few months ago: _I believe that it would enable a brain to process information at light speed and pick up signals that are out of our reach now_, and then: _you get a supercomputer for a brain._

Oh. _Oh_.

He calls the number she scribbled on one of the files with Extremis research and waits for her to pick up, his heart beating furiously, as if he was a boy before his first date.

'Yes?' he finally hears her hushed voice and breathes with relief.

'How sure are you of your conclusions regarding how Extremis will work on human brain?' he asks without wasting time on polite greetings. If he understood right, he's one of a very few people who know that number.

'As sure as I can get without actually seeing it work,' she replies, a bit more confidently. 'Are you –'

'There is only so much I can talk about via phone,' Tony cuts in. 'But we're not going to win this way. We. Are. Not. I need – I need everything I can get. I know what you hinted at when you invited me to visit you, that I'll be able to make use of what the Extremis does to a human. Not physically, but mentally – and I know you were right. _He_ took control of the suit, made ma fall. Captain's not letting me back in field for now and I _can't_ just sit back, for God knows how long. I can't.'

'Okay, so,' Maya says slowly, prompting him to explain himself further.

'How long is it going to take?' Tony asks, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

A second before she picked up he wasn't sure he wanted this, but now there's no backing away.

'Four days, five max.'

'I could do that,' Tony decides, flipping through a calendar Pepper insists he keep to see if there is anything _scheduled_, but there is nothing. Understandable, people are too afraid to leave their houses. 'I'll be there the day after tomorrow. Be ready.'

'I will,' she assures him. Tony hangs up.

Then he goes to where the bots are charging, pats them on their sensors before sitting down between them, and talks to them until he falls asleep.

* * *

'I'm going to Arizona in the evening' Tony announces at breakfast, ignoring all the startled stares. 'I want to see the factory.'

He doesn't have to add which one, everyone knows too well.

'Tony –' Steve starts, but Tony doesn't let him speak.

'I'll do that whether you let me or not, Cap. Again. I understand what I didn't let you say, but I need to see what is happening there in person.'

Pepper doesn't say anything.

'When will you be back?'

'In five days – I want to go to the two facilities nearby that haven't been shut down. I need to talk to those people. If anything changes, I call you. I'm taking a jet and yes, I'll have two security men with me. Not more. Two is enough.'

They all nod and resume eating; Tony ignores the half-secret stares skillfully.

'I'll be worried,' Steve tells Tony when they're leaving the kitchen to go to their respective rooms.

For a fraction of second Tony thinks about telling Steve – telling someone – but he doesn't. He just smiles apologetically and runs up the stairs to get to his bedroom and pack his bag.

Maybe it's wrong and naïve, but he trusts Maya enough _not_ to tell anyone – he does check if a letter – a real letter, honestly – he wrote some time ago is still where he hid it. For someone who can die on a daily basis it'd be stupid _not_ to have something like that, just in case.

* * *

Before leaving, he kisses Pepper in the forehead, shakes their hands and salutes the whole crowd that was waiting in the penthouse to say goodbye to him. He hopes it's not the last time he sees them, hopes so much it aches, but – it must be done.

* * *

He arrives at Maya's lab at 0800 the next day. His security guys are enjoying a short holiday in one of Midland's hotels; they know better than to question Tony. They also probably think that he's off to see a girl or something similar, but he doesn't mind, as long as he's left alone.

'Do we need to do anything… before?' Tony asks as soon as they are inside. The interior looks the way it did before, only more dusty.

'Not really,' she says, leading him to an area underground that looks actually inhabited. 'I'd like to run a few test though, so that we can compare your results before and after – for the sake of science,' she adds, choosing – on purpose, Tony is pretty sure – the words they used to say to each other when they did some crazy illegal experiments back in MIT.

He leaves his things in a small room, part of something that looks like leaving quarters, and follows Maya into a training room.

'There are two sets of exercises – physical and mental. I thought we could start with physical.'

'Just tell me what to do,' Tony replies with a tight smile, and they begin.

* * *

After the tests they eat lunch, and Maya explains how the Extremis procedure will look in detail; Tony wishes she wouldn't do that over food because hearing expressions like _body like an open wound_ and _like a cocoon around you_ aren't good for his appetite.

It all sounds a lot like a story out of the X-files, and yet somehow it'll become his own life soon. It's a bit creepy.

'I was wondering,' he says when Maya is cleaning the table. 'What about the arc reactor? I'm sure you've read all that's been published about it, about its purpose. Will it be – expelled, by my body? When it heals up? Any thoughts?'

'I'd say it depends on how the Extremis will perceive it – as a weak point, as something to correct, or as an asset, given that it powers your suit and keeps you alive, at least for now. It might also depend on if the shrapnel stays in your body or not, I can't predict what'll happen. Might be expelled, might be somehow incorporated and changed into tissue, might stay the way it is… Not enough time to ponder about this, I'm afraid.'

'Yeah, okay, I expected it to be the case,' Tony admits, getting up and stretching his back. 'So, that's all? I'm ready now?'

'Yes, Tony – I'll need you to take off your shirt, okay?'

'I bet you've been waiting for this moment ever since the last time we had sex… wait, when was it, '87?'

'Please do not remind me how good you were back when you were still underage,' she replies with a small smirk and gestures at him to follow. 'But yes, '87.'

'A few years before you disappeared from the face of the world.'

'You'll see it was worth it,' Maya says with an air of confidence. She's always been as sure of herself as she was clever, one of the reasons she and Tony kicked off instantly and understood each other really well. They both know they have the reasons to be as proud of their creations as they are.

A moment later they reach the room Tony recognizes from her description before, with a fancy examination bed he'll spend the next three days on, hooked up to various monitors for as long as the Extremis allows. He undresses like he's been told to while Maya disappears behind a door.

'If something goes wrong, I'd like you to call someone all the tower and tell them to search my bedroom thoroughly, okay? I left them something. You don't have to explain anything just tell them that, can you do that for me?' Tony asks her when she comes back into the room.

'Of course, Tony – but there will be no need.'

'Your certainty is very uplifting,' he chuckles, laying down on the bed. Maya talks a few minutes to hook him up to the machines and nods to herself with satisfaction when everything seems to be working perfectly.

'I need to tell Extremis what to do now, exactly, okay?'

'Go heavy on the techno bits,' Tony says, smirking, and watches her fingers dance over the keyboard. 'That's what I need most – but you're a smart girl. You know what to do.'

'I try,' she replies, eyes fixed on the screen. It takes her a few minutes to get the Extremis programmed and when she's done, she hooks a glucose IV.

'Good luck,' he says, eying the syringe in her hand.

'Good luck to _you_,' she replies with a smile and sticks the needle into Tony's arm.

* * *

It doesn't feel like three days, Tony is unconscious most of the time, and when he's remotely aware of what's happening, all he knows is pain.

* * *

It stops all of sudden, Tony regains consciousness within a short moment and the first thing he notices is how easy it is to breathe; he's _forgotten_ how easy it can be to breathe.

'Tony?' he hears Maya's anxious voice and forces a smile onto his face. It feels strange, as if he was exercising a set of unused muscles, but it passes quickly.

His hand touches his chest quickly, searching for an answer to the big question – the reactor is still in his chest, untouched, but it feels… okay. There's been a slight discomfort present all the time before, since his body healed around the casing, but now it doesn't feel like an alien object inserted into his chest.

It takes him another moment to sit up, and just the he realizes that he hasn't opens his eyes, but he knows everything that's going on inside the room anyway – his brain is hacking the lab's sensors and cameras. He knew it was going to happen, in theory, but it's incredible to actually experience that – incredible and confusing, there is so much information pouring into his brain, all at the same time, and it all gets sorted and stored automatically; it seems to be done unconsciously.

'Tony, are you all right? Talk to me, please,' Maya says on his left.

Tony opens his eyes to meet her stare, sits up and stretches his back.

'It worked perfectly,' he says with a lazy smile.

'_Everything_?'

'_Everything_,' a voice replies through the rooms speakers, while Tony keeps his mouth shut and keeps his eyes fixed on her.

It's amazing to have a heart beating so strongly, so regularly – it feels like he can rely in it completely for the first time in almost five years.

'We need to repeat the tests now, if you're feeling okay –'

'Sure thing,' he replies lightly, jumping off the bed; his body feels stronger, easier to control. Better. Foolproof. All the tiredness he's been nursing for the last few months, since the war began, is gone, there are no traces of bruises, cuts, scratches he was covered with when he came here – all the scars are gone, too, he notices a moment later when they're walking into the test room, seeing his reflection in the glass door. The reactor is embedded smoothly in his body, the pink scarred tissue that used to be around it is gone.

The tests take much less time than before, even though she conducts a few additional ones; Tony's Extremis-enhanced self is better, faster, stronger.

'You're a genius Maya,' Tony tells her, kissing her on cheek. 'This is – uhm, I need to get more control over what my brain is doing because for now it's a crazy amount of _stuff_ to process, but I'm sure it won't take long, and then we'll finally have a source of information about the Emperor's actions – I know for sure he uses the web and the satellite signals, so I'll have insight into everything he does – it's perfect. It's what we needed – thank you,' he says, pulling her into a hug and kissing her again. She chuckles and kisses back. 'You're a genius. You've just helped make a giant step ahead in saving this fucking world.'

'You better thank you genes for being a combination that let the Extremis work,' Maya replies and pulls away. Silence fills the room for a few moments.

'I'll go soon,' Tony says finally and Maya nods.

'Don't you want to rest, or anything?'

'I haven't felt this rested in _ages_,' Tony laughs lightly, following her into the quarters where he left his things. 'I just want to take a shower and I'm out of here – are you staying?'

'I have to keep an eye on the Extremis, of course I'm staying here,' she replies, taking a towel out of a shelf and throwing it at him. 'I work all the time. Time passes quickly.'

'If you say so – let me say I admire your commitment,' Tony tells her before disappearing in the bathroom. He spends more time observing his new spotless body than actually showering, but he'd be a fool not to. If someone doesn't look closely, they won't notice the subtle changes that can be spotted.

The most important changes are invisible.

'Stay safe,' Tony tells her when he's getting into the car and Maya's standing in the doorway, looking pale and flimsy in the strong Texan sunlight.

'You too – and you better hurry with bringing that madman down, he's done too much damage already.'

'I'll try,' Tony assures her, closes the door behind himself and drives off.

* * *

As soon as Tony gets to the penthouse he knows something is wrong.

He spends the whole flight marveling at how his brain is working with the Extremis enhancements – he can literally see all the plane's parameters that the pilot is controlling in front if his eyes, as if on display, and it's so easy to comprehend them all at once, to understand the mixed signals, his mind processing the information quickly.

It's as amazing as it is confusing, Tony decides. It's going to take him some time to get used to how he's functioning right now – and make full use of all his new abilities.

But when he steps out of the elevator it's more of a gut feeling than anything Extremis helps him notice.

'Tony?' Bruce's voice carries across the room and Tony makes his way to the kitchen quickly.

'What's happened?' Tony asks, taking in the view: Bruce, Natasha, Steve and Pepper are sitting around the table, looking exhausted and just _sad_. The TV is on but the words of the speaker are barely audible; Tony doesn't have to look at the screen to know what's being shown on the channel that's on – or any other, they're all at the same time inside Tony's head, a mix of voices and images that are almost too many to follow. _Almost_.

'We were in a fight,' Natasha says, her voice unusually subdued. 'Well, I wasn't, I won't be in field for another week at least but – Clint was hurt. Phil was hurt a bit when he was getting Clint out of the mess.'

'Oh,' Tony just says, running one hand through his hair. 'Are they all right?'

'They'll be back here at 1900 hrs,' Natasha offers.

'You're interested now?' Steve asks at the same time, disappointment clear in his voice.

'I called all the places you could have gone to,' Pepper adds, giving him a long look. 'No one knew anything about your supposed visit, Tony. I was – I don't know what to think about it.'

'Don't you trust me?' Tony asks before he can stop himself, wishing immediately he kept his mouth shut. It's just that the constant buzz in his head is – distracting. And the restlessness in his limbs.

Things he'll have to get used to.

'I do – we do, Tony, but I just wanted to tell you what's happened. And then we learn you didn't even go where you told us you were going, and two of your teammates – of your friends – were hurt…'

'I get it,' Tony says, looking at his hands in his lap. He _hates_ when Steve look at him like this.

'Can you tell us where you went?' Steve questions; Tony can feel Cap's eyes on him. 'Not as a confession, I – we were just wondering, you know. What's worth that much risk, travelling cross-country while the war is full-scale all around.'

'I hope you know I have no obligation to tell you where I am every second of every day and I can do whatever I want to do,' Tony says and takes a breath, trying to sort out his messy thoughts and figure out how to tell them what he and Maya have done without making them completely mad at him. 'I'll tell you because I _want to_, but it's – a long story, okay, Cap? I swear I was just trying to do the best thing possible and yes, I told you I was going to visit SI plants because it was a good excuse and – can I tell you when Clint and Phil are back? I don't want to tell the story twice and I don't want anyone to miss any details or anything. It's pretty interesting. Wait those few hours and we do one of those team thing you like so much?'

'Okay, Tinhead,' Steve replies, deliberately using the nickname Tony hates. 'A meeting at 1900 hrs then, all right?'

Everyone nods and gets up. Tony walks up to the fridge to get himself something to eat and Steve puts a hand on his shoulder as he passes.

'You look… rested,' he states, his blue eyes fixed on Tony's face, making him wish Extremis would let him read people's minds, too. 'Good to see that for once. And I'm still angry at you for being irresponsible,' he adds and disappears.

Tony grimaces, putting a chicken sandwich on a plate and turning around to see Bruce standing in the middle of the room, staring at the TV.

'Brucey? Sweetheart?'

'Don't you try your nicknames, Stark,' Bruce says, rolling his eyes. 'We were worried, you know. Angry at you – but worried, too.'

'Hey, I –'

'You can be still pretty dumbs sometimes, for a genius,' Bruce adds, ignoring Tony completely, and a second later the phone calls. Bruce picks up and says it's General Reuben. Tony raises and eyebrow and takes the speaker; Bruce grabs a glass of water and promptly leaves the room.

'We have a few technical questions for your regarding you work for the army – could you come by the usual place at 1700 hrs today?' the man's rough voice asks, Tony's brain picking the words out quicker than they're transmitted. Ugh. Not nice.

'Does it have to be today – and just me?' Tony asks, the words slightly indistinct because he's talking and chewing his sandwich at the same time.

'Yes, today – and it's _technical_ questions, so I think you're the only one who can give us answers anyway.'

'Yeah, okay, I'll be there. You better have some coffee for me though,' Tony replies and hangs up. He should get there and back no problem before Clint comes home with Phil at 1900 hrs; he decides to fly in one of the suits – it's safe now and it'll be quicker. Who knows what can happen in the streets.

* * *

When he walks into the meeting room Avenger's part of the War Division always uses, there is no one inside. Tony, for once, isn't late – he's even five minutes early, believe it or not – so he figures the general will come in a moment. There is coffee ready on the table though, so Tony sits down, slouching in the chair, and takes the cup in his hands.

In the whole building there're no cameras he could hack to see where the General is; it makes perfect sense. Tony disabled all cameras in the tower, too, knowing what the Emperor could possibly use them for.

He takes a sip of the coffee, vaguely noting that the flavor is terrible – of course they'd offer him the terrible army brew, those crudes, right? – and then the world spins.

* * *

Waking up this time is much less pleasant than after the Extremis, mostly because Tony is terribly confused; there's a multitude of signals in his head, he can't recognize the place he's in, it smells strange, there is a lot of white noise around; his body feels stiff and strange and it shouldn't –

– and then someone speaks up, cutting through all of the sensations and letting Tony focus on the words.

'Good afternoon, Mister Stark, how nice to see you again.'

Tony recognizes the voice instantly.

'I'm afraid I can't say the same, Richard, dear,' he replies and opens his eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, I'll be very thankful if you let me know what you think! :)


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